April 12, 2010
Cavs-Magic Bazooka Point

Today, we all witnessed something special: we watched a coach other than Don Nelson actively attempt to lose a game.

After choosing to deactivate LeBron and Anthony Parker, Coldstone ended the suspense of an until-then competitive contest between the Cavs’ reserves and the Magic by holding both Mo and Jamison out for the entire fourth quarter.

To that point, both guys had been playing very well. Mo had a 19 point, 9 assist, 50% 3P performance going through 28 minutes. Jamison had 19 points and 6 rebounds in 29 minutes, even shooting 75% FT, which, as we all know, is unheard of since the trade.

Orlando seemed to have no good answer for either of them. Mo clearly believed that he could drive on Jameer Nelson the entire day, and nothing Stan Van Gundy tried against Jamison seemed to have much of an effect—and there was definitely some experimentation involved.

However, with the game very much still up for grabs, Coldstone started the fourth with both men on the bench. The deep reserves took the lead a few minutes into the quarter, but were unable to hold it. Coldstone never brought Mo or Jamison back into the game to try to steal the victory, either. Instead, the Magic were able to barely outplay the reserves and walk away with a shaky 6 point win.

I have incredibly mixed feelings about how this went down.

Like Brian Windhorst, it doesn’t feel right to me to actively hold back almost everything in order to win. Non-competition doesn’t mesh with my personality. It’s not as if the choice was about playing LeBron versus not playing LeBron. It was about putting in guys who, to that point, had played an entirely reasonable number of minutes, were playing well, and could potentially have helped tip the scales in a season series against a hated rival.

However, I also recognize that this is a classic “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” situation for Coldstone. If he puts in Mo and Jamison, and one of them gets hurt, he gets killed for putting starters out in the final minutes of a meaningless game. (Let’s not forget that this almost happened to Jamison against the Bulls Thursday.) If he keeps them out and the Cavs lose (as they did), he gets grilled for intentionally holding back.

The proponents of this second school would also argue, I think, that the Cavs missed a chance to deal a psychological blow to the Magic. Had they taken this game with Bron, Shaq, and even AP sitting, then maybe the Magic really would’ve felt like they’re in trouble when the Cavs come back at them at full force in the Conference Finals (assuming that match-up ultimately happens).

I don’t want to completely throw out that school of thought, especially since I just wrote a post based on a similar idea last week. But I think there’s a major difference that we have to recognize. 

Think about it this way:  the Magic, playing in a game that had meaning (in that it could allow them to potentially overtake the Lakers for the overall #2 seed), playing their starters full minutes, getting a monster performance from Da-wight (22 points, 13 reb, 6 blk), had to fight like hell to barely overcome a Cavs team with no LeBron (the best player in the league), no Shaq (the primary player brought in to contain Da-wight Howard), and when it came down to it, no Antawn Jamison (the player they haven’t been able to figure out how to defend), and no Mo Williams (the player who was killing them for 3 quarters despite his epic struggles against them last season). The Magic still only put up 98 points and got practically nothing (6 points on 3-10 FG) from Vince Carter, the guy they brought in to replace Hedo Turkoglu, whom the Cavs were never able to figure out.

This is one where the players interviewed post-game say things like, “We struggled out there today, but all that matters was that we got a win.” That’s the right thing to say, sure. But there’s no way that after it’s said, the player walks back into the locker room feeling good about the potential of seeing the opposing team again at full-strength on a big stage. In that sense, if there was psychological damage to be done in this game, my guess is that it happened regardless of the actual outcome.

In fact, I would actually go one step further. Say Coldstone puts Jamison and Mo back in the game in the second half of the 4th. They run their best offense. They give maximum effort. They show they care about winning…but they lose anyway. Sure, LeBron and Shaq are still on the bench. But that’s a win that the Magic can potentially use to their advantage down the road. They can say, “OK, they weren’t at full force, but we still took their best shot and were able to withstand it.”

In this way, the Celtics game on Easter is a good example. Sure, the Cavs were without Shaq and Andy, but they went as hard as they could to roar back from a 20+ point deficit and nearly take the game. But they fell short. Did that register with Boston as a sobering moment? No, it registered as a well-deserved opportunity to talk shit, pound their chests, to convince themselves that they could beat the Cavs. And I guarantee that they’ll carry that attitude into their next match-up with the Cavs in the post-season, if it happens.

Instead, the Magic have to go back to Orlando thinking, “Crap, they weren’t at full force to begin with, they played the end of their bench in the 4th, basically ran around like a JV team, didn’t even foul to try to extend the game…and we won by two possessions. This is not good.” 

To use a basketball analogy, I would equate Coldstone’s strategy to “pulling the chair” on a post player trying to back down a defender. The offensive player readies himself to go up against maximum resistance, finds none, and is immediately thrown off his game. It’s like sucking the oxygen out of a room where there’s a fire.

So while it goes against my own nature to not compete as hard as possible, I ultimately think Coldstone made the right decision. I recognize that’s a controversial opinion, but as usual, we’re not here to cooperate.

-T.

12:55am  |   URL: http://www.josemesaisdead.com/post/515219659/cavs-magic-bazooka-point
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FILED UNDER: NBA Cavs Magic Bazooka Point 
March 29, 2010
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall: Cavs / Magic Comparison

With eight games to go in the regular season, the Cavs are on the verge of locking up the #1 seed in the league for the second straight season. This, of course, means that playoff predictions are beginning to start up in earnest.

I’m not going to start looking at first round opponents just yet because the playoff seeding is still liable to shift too much her in the final two weeks. (I’d prefer not to waste a bunch of time talking about a first round match-up that never happens.) Instead, I want to begin to mentally prep myself (and everyone else, if they care) for the likely Eastern Conference Finals that we’ve been waiting for since last June: Cavs V. Magic, part 2.

Obviously, there are no guarantees that this series is going to happen, either. But practically every statistical measure I can find suggests that it should. Not only that, but the numbers also that if/when the match-up itself does happen, it’s likely to be excruciatingly close.

Here’s what the advanced team stats say right now.

Offensive Efficiency (points scored per 100 possessions):

Cavs = 109.2 (2nd); Magic = 108.5 (5th)

Defensive Efficiency (points allowed per 100 possessions):

Cavs = 100.9 (8th) ; Magic = 99.7 (1st)

Efficiency Differential (Off Efficiency - Def Efficiency):

Cavs = +8.25 (2nd); Magic = +8.72 (1st)

Cleveland and Orlando are the only two teams in the East that rank in the top 10 in both Off Eff and Def Eff. Atlanta is the only other East team to rank in the top 10 in Efficiency Differential, but their 8th-place number (+4.62) pales in comparison to the Cavs and Magic. It’s better than half, but not by much.

In fact, even the third place team in Efficiency Differential—the mighty Los Angeles Lakers—takes a noticeable step down from the top two. After tonight’s loss to the Hornets, LAL’s differential drops to +5.97, or less than two-thirds of the Cavs’ and Magic’s.

In a nut shell, what does all this mean? Basically, that if you give every team in the league an equal number of possessions, the Cavs and Magic are going to be the best overall at both scoring and defending. They’re also going to be noticeably in a different class than the third place team (LAL) from an overall standpoint.

In addition, John Hollinger’s power rankings rate Orlando and Cleveland as #1 and #2, respectively, in the league as of tonight. While Hollinger doesn’t explain the exact formula for his rankings, he does explain that it weighs a number of factors that the efficiency metrics I mentioned above do not. For instance, Hollinger’s system tries to control for strength of schedule. It also lends more statistical value to a team’s recent performance than to their early performance.  While the exact metrics vary depending on the point in the season that the rankings are done, at this point, the system values the most recent 25% of games more heavily than the previous 75%.

If we look at Hollinger’s actual ratings (i.e. the numbers themselves), we see a repeat of the general conclusions of the efficiency differential rankings.  Orlando currently ranks first with a score of 107.683; Cleveland ranks second with a score of 107.325; and Atlanta is the only other East team to rank in the top 10. (Their 104.003 ranking sits them in the #9 spot.)

In short, Hollinger’s system suggests that not only have the Cavs and Magic been the two best teams in the league over the entire season, they’ve also been the two best teams over the past few weeks. If it’s not immediately clear why this matters, consider the Celtics. They began the season looking like the true title contenders most of the old school experts predicted them to be. Right now, though, the Cs rank 11th in Hollinger’s system, due largely to their post All-Star break performance, which can hardly be labeled much better than “decent”—especially if you value things like scoring margin over wins and losses (which Hollinger’s system does).

Simply put, the Celtics are still winning a fair amount of games, but the wins aren’t by as much and the losses are by much more than they were early in the season. And if Hollinger is to be believed, this matters more than their final record. Exhibit A in this category is the 2007 Dallas Mavericks and San Antonio Spurs. The Mavs finished the season with 9 more wins than the Spurs, but the Spurs killed the Mavs in scoring margin. The 67-win Mavs were then bounced in the opening round by Golden State, while the Spurs went on to win the title.

Conversely, the Cavs and Magic are both still balling at a high level.

Oh, and just to round out the list of team stats, the Cavs are 2nd in the league in True Shooting Percentage at 57.3%; the Magic are 3rd at 56.8%; and the Cavs are also 2nd in the league in Total Rebounding Rate (% of available rebounds grabbed) at 52.45, while the Magic are 4th at 51.87. In case you’re wondering, the teams separating Cleveland and Orlando from the top of the list AND from each other in both of these last two categories are all Western teams.

In fact, what becomes really remarkable as you go down the lists is how close the Cavs and Magic are even in some of the categories where neither performs particularly well. For instance, Orlando is tied for 19th in the league in Turnover Rate (% of possessions ending in a TO) with a 13.69 rating; Cleveland is 17th with a 13.58 rating. Orlando is 25th in Offensive Rebounding Rate at 24.49; Cleveland is 21st at 25.18. So neither team is particularly great on the defensive glass, and neither is particularly good at holding onto the ball. Yet in both of these cases where they suck (relatively speaking), the Cavs and Magic still suck about equally as bad as one another.

Simply put, both teams meet strength with strength and weakness with weakness. They also even play the game at an almost identical pace. Orlando averages 93.7 possessions per 48 minutes (24th overall); Cleveland averages 93.0 (26th). As Mike pointed out recently, the pace similarity also suggests that the two teams are governed by very similar coaching philosophies:  execute in the half-court unless a blatant opportunity to run presents itself, because this approach will best allow you to get back on defense effectively.

Again, there’s no way for us to know how any of this is going to play out. Injuries or statistical anomalies could prevent the match-up from either happening at all, or from playing out in an unexpected way. But one thing is for certain: if the statistics are accurate, there is no feasible way that I’m going to be able to watch the Eastern Conference Finals sober, because the victor is going to be determined by the thinnest of margins.

-T.

11:52pm  |   URL: http://www.josemesaisdead.com/post/483672660/mirror-mirror-on-the-wall-cavs-magic-comparison
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FILED UNDER: NBA Cavs Magic Orlando Statistics 
March 16, 2010
Debating The Champion

On Twitter today, the NBA held a debate about which teams were going to be playing in the finals in June. 

While this can be fun to argue about in a bar, I guess, although I don’t particularly find arguments fun, let’s be honest:

There is no debate.

I’m not saying this because I think the teams that will play for the title are a foregone conclusion. No. I’m saying it for an entirely different reason. 

Let’s focus on the Eastern Conference since that is where we live, so to speak. 

Barring some kind of near-miracle, the Cavs will be playing the Magic once again in the Eastern Conference Finals. Count on that. As I noted the other day, according to HoopData, the Magic now have the best efficiency differential in the league (+8.46). The Cavs are second at +8.16. 

Efficiency differential is a great way to determine how a team will perform during the regular season, and it is a strong indicator of who will win the championship, but it is not totally valuable in playoff series because of match-ups and the probability of trends breaking down in a relatively small best of 7 arrangement. Great teams lose some times when they aren’t supposed to (please see the Cavs in 2009 and Dallas in 2007). 

For the record, the Cavs were +10.27 last year. Boston was second at +8.70. The Magic were third at +8.26.

We all know who won the title, the fourth best team, the Lakers at +7.91.

Any impartial observer should be pretty confident that this season the Cavs and the Magic are the two best teams in the East. The Cavs have had quite a few injuries, which have impacted their overall performance negatively. But the EC Finals are going to look a lot like they did last season, except with some very different match-ups, courtesy of quite a few new players. 

So let’s have the debate. Who wins, Magic or Cavs?

I could write a few paragraphs about how the Cavs added length on the perimeter so they could close out on the Magic’s shooters better and faster. I could write about the Shaq versus Da-wight match-up, or the differences between Vince Carter and Hedo Turkoglu. We could even, for god sakes, compare Jason Williams and Rafer Alston if we wanted to … but I am pretty convinced that all of that debating will inevitably be worthless.

Why?

Because the teams are so evenly matched that it very well could come down to some random shit that none of us could ever predict.

For example … 

Da-wight shooting free throws better than he ever has. Rafer Alston becoming a viable 3P shooter. Mo Williams turning into a complete brick layer. Debatable calls from the officials that put the two biggest of the big men in foul trouble, etc. etc.

In other words, this year’s Eastern Conference Finals could look a lot like last year’s. It could all come down to the bounce.

Which will make for an exciting series - but also a pretty goddamn nerve-racking one as well. 

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FILED UNDER: Cavs Magic 
March 10, 2010
Against Sportsmanship

HBO aired a much hyped documentary about the career-long rivalry between Larry Bird and Magic Johnson this past Saturday night. I watched it tonight, but I’ve also seen a host of basketball writers comment about it since this weekend. All of the commentary is in basically the same glowing terms. Though they all applaud the doc itself, the bigger cheers seem to come from the memories it revived of the actual on-court battles that these two great players had in the earlier era of the NBA—battles that, from the footage I’ve seen, were truly epic.

Here’s what I know: on court, Bird and Magic hated one another. It was about more than basketball to them. Because of the franchises they were both drafted by, the personal vendettas that went back to their college years took on all kinds of new dimensions in the pros. West coast vs. east coast. Glamorous Los Angeles vs. working class Boston. The cold-blooded recluse vs. the warm-hearted charmer. Black vs. white in a racially divided America. To hear them tell it, each guy went to the box scores the next morning and checked to see how his rival did the night before, and each of them used those results as fuel to try to get better. They lived to play one another. More accurately, they lived to try to beat one another.

Admittedly, part of this antagonism was roiling before Magic and Bird arrived on the scene. The Lakers & Celtics had squared off in the Finals seven different times prior to the 1979-80 season, with Boston winning on each occasion. Magic may not have been the whole difference, but he was certainly instrumental. The Celtics and Lakers met in the 1983-84, 1984-85, and 1986-87 finals, with the Lakers coming out victorious in the last two of those three series. Magic was unanimously voted the Finals MVP in ‘87. Bird received that honor when the Celtics took the trophy in ‘84.

While Lakers / Celtics in the Magic / Bird era was arguably the greatest NBA rivalry of the 20th century, there were certainly others. The “Bad Boys” Pistons vs the Bulls, where the infamous “Jordan Rules” were spawned. The Lakers vs. the Pistons in the same time period, along with the MJ Bulls vs. Bird’s Celtics. Even the early 2000s gave the fans the Lakers vs the Sacramento Kings, which had enough drama, entertainment value, and genuine poisonous feelings between the players that it could be considered great.

Yet today’s NBA has none of that.

Yes, rivalries still exist. Obviously the Celtics / Lakers tilt in the 2007-8 Finals was treated as big news. The Suns and Spurs don’t like each other very much. The Cavs were even at the center of what could have been a great rivalry with the Wizards—that is, if they were ever meeting anywhere later than the opening round of the post-season, and if the Wizards were ever actually able to beat the Cavs.

But unfortunately for the fans, we’ve entered what I will call the Sportsmanship Era of the NBA.

Part of this sad circumstance has to do with the way the game is officiated. Chuck Daly’s Jordan Rules made for great drama and a more even competition, but they also very much made it possible that the greatest player in the game could end up getting knocked out of the series (or more) by injury. Flagrant fouls were established in the NBA in 1993 to help protect players like Jordan, whose mastery of the game was so high that only the roughest physical play could hope to stop them.

This isn’t a phenomenon specific to the NBA. The NFL is also notorious for the legislative body armor it’s created around the quarterback position. All sports commissioners have a justified compulsion to protect their leagues’ biggest stars. The acknowledged wisdom is that it’s those stars who generate interest in the league and, therefore, revenue. While the league office can’t make these stars bullet-proof, they can certainly institute as many precautions and penalties as they think are necessary.

The irony, though, is that the “revised” officiating has arguably made the game far less competitive and, therefore, interesting. Just as linebackers and defensive linemen in the NFL argue that they can barely do their jobs now, NBA players argue that it’s impossible to even get near enough to established great players to hope to stop them. In recent NBA history, I like to point to the way Da-wyane Wade was officiated in the 2006 Finals as the best example of this. (There’s an entire series on Youtube covering the 5 most outrageous phantom calls in that series. Phantom fouls three and five are my favorites.)

It’s a conscious decision on the part of the league. David Stern and company have clearly come to the conclusion that what best serves the NBA is great players given a wide berth to be great, not the best teams fighting each other the hardest to win. I’m sure Stern would argue that the two are not mutually exclusive, but I beg to differ—partially because the life or death intensity of Bird and Magic’s rivalry in the 1980s was the phenomenon that prevented the league from capsizing.

By no means am I saying that I want the players going after one another in the parking lot with tire irons. (The last thing I need in my life as a sports fan is LeBron howling “Why? Whyyyyyyy?” while holding a kneecap busted by some thug hired by Kobe to take him out of the Finals.) I’m also not saying that sportsmanship shouldn’t be taught in youth sports, when kids need to learn the boundaries of behavior. But considering the firestorm that ignited over LeBron’s refusal to shake hands with Orlando after losing in game 6 of the ECF last season, I am saying that the focus on clean play and sportsmanship in professional sports has gone too far.

In fairness, the league isn’t wholly responsible for this situation. The other contributing factor is the culture of friendship that’s developed among the players. Unlike LeBron and Da-wyane, Bird and Magic weren’t going to dinner with one another during the season or advising one another on contract negotiations. They played against one another once in college, but they didn’t grow up together in AAU tournaments as high-schoolers and younger.

I’m not necessarily happy about this development as a fan, but it’s one I can understand as a human being. NBA players’ lives are basketball, and this starts at a very early age. Basketball is their recreation, their escape, their profession, their social life, their fraternity, and in many cases, their support group. Outside of professional sports, how many other industries are there in the world where a 19 year-old African-American kid can not only become a multi-millionaire, but also associate with a bunch of other people in the exact same position? I don’t think you need a second finger to count. In this regard, it’s natural for these players to bond with one another. Who else understands their lifestyle, their stresses, their responsibilities, and in many cases, the “have-not to have-everything” culture shock they’re experiencing?

In fact, this may be an even bigger prevention of true rivalries than the rule changes. Magic repeatedly tried to reach out to Bird early in their careers, dating back to when they played one another in the NCAA championship game. The antagonism was manufactured entirely by Bird. He snubbed Magic on purpose and made it clear that he had no desire, no reason to be friends with him. In Bird’s book, Magic’s only function in his life was to play against Bird and ultimately, to lose to him. This persisted for years. Even looking back on it now, Bird admits that his greatest joy in winning the ‘84 title was “knowing that [Magic] was suffering” because he’d lost. The plan ultimately backfired, as Magic credits that loss for driving him to work even harder so that he’d never experience that feeling again. But the fact remains that those Lakers-Celtics Finals would never have reached the intensity level they reached if not for Bird’s willingness to play the heel.

In today’s NBA, I don’t think there are any young players willing to play that role. The only star in the league with the right temperament seems to be Kobe, the guy who, according to Mike D’Antoni, implored his All-Star team to “step on the throats” of the Eastern Conference All-Stars coming out of a time-out a few years back. But like it or not, Kobe is a part of the old guard. His career is in decline. The league is in the hands of LeBron, Da-wyane, Carmelo, Chris Paul, Rajon Rondo, and others still well under 30. Led by LeBron’s example—which is really Magic’s example, minus his early relationship with Bird—these players are as much friends with one another as competitors against one another.

What they don’t have that Magic and Bird both did is a persona different from their true selves. Magic talks extensively in the documentary about how he was really two people: Earvin and Magic. Earvin was the fun-loving charmer who lit up every room he walked into; Magic was the guy who got to the gym before everyone else and literally lived for the opportunity to take revenge on Bird. After their second Finals showdown, Bird met “Earvin” when Converse coerced the two men into shooting a joint shoe commercial in French Lick, Indiana. They connected, they bonded, they felt at ease with one another. Magic then thought they could be friends the next season, that the first time they played one another, the two of them could go out for a beer after the game, chat, catch up, reminisce, etc.

But as soon as the next season began, Bird made it abundantly and instantly clear that Earvin was dead to him. He wanted to throw Magic to the crows. All of the old venom returned in an instant, and the true rivalry—the knock-down, drag-out physical rivalry, the test of wills, the hunger for not only victory but the pain of their competitor—picked up right where it left off. And it was Bird’s attitude that created that scenario.

Professional sports today are a very different animal from the Bird / Magic era: finance-wise, marketing-wise, lifestyle-wise. There didn’t use to be much drive other than winning. Now, players are brands. They have images to not just protect and develop, but cross-market. It’s less profitable for LeBron and Kobe to hate each other than it is for them to be friendly enough to co-star in Vitamin Water and Nike campaigns. Ironically, that Converse commercial with Bird and Magic—the one where they became off-court friends—may have set the precedent for this. But no one in the Sportsmanship Era of the NBA has chosen to flip that switch off so completely that the personal relationships truly become inconsequential when it comes to tip time.

Some people will still call Kobe / LeBron a rivalry. I think that label is a ridiculous reach. Yes, the public has christened them to be the two best players in the game (despite its indisputable factual error). But the two have never played one another in any game of real consequence. In fact, they’ve done more note-worthy things as Olympic teammates than NBA opponents. But the sponsors, the marketers, and even the league know deep down that rivalries are good for the sport. They know this because the Bird / Magic antagonism saved the NBA from bankruptcy in the 1980s.  But it also resulted in fights, in blood, in bruises, in injuries—in short, in the general peril that the foundation of the league’s success was one bad fall away from disappearing.

So now the league does its best to cultivate these bloodless face-offs: rivalries of stats, of individual records, of awards, with the hope that they can soon have rivalries where championships are decided  between teams of guys who really want to win, but also really want to lend a hand to help their opponent get up from the floor.  Hard-fought games that don’t cross the danger zone into “chippy.” Just enough emotion to steer clear of technical fouls. Losers crushed by the outcome, but not so crushed that they would forget to shake hands with the victor afterward. In short, rivalries governed by sportsmanship.

I reject these pseudo-rivalries. If that makes me a barbarian, so be it. But LeBron snubbing Da-wight after losing a hard-fought series is nothing compared to Kevin McHale clothes-lining Kurt Rambis to prevent a lay-up in game 3 of the ‘84 Finals. To pretend otherwise is absurd.

My great fear in all of this is that we as current basketball fans are being shorted, that the great players of today are stopping short of the top level of intensity because of the league’s doing and the players’ handling of own their personal relationships. It’s a selfish perspective, I realize. Part of the reason the NBA is like this is because the players themselves want it to be. After all, league rules aren’t forcing them to help opponents up from fouls or hug one another before and after games. On that level, the Sportsmanship Era is a grassroots movement that puts me even further in the minority than I originally thought.

But if I’m the only one against this new age of sportsmanship, then I’d also ask this: why were so many people so excited by a reminder of when Magic and Bird hated one another? I believe that the answer is that it created some of the best, most memorable basketball ever played. The emotion, the competitiveness that took the games to that level does not exist right now. And unfortunately for the fans, I also believe that it means the current league’s full potential may never be reached.

But that’s ok. At least we can all still be friends.

-T

1:30am  |   URL: http://www.josemesaisdead.com/post/438708270/against-sportsmanship
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FILED UNDER: NBA LeBron Kobe Magic Bird Celtics Lakers Rivalries 
February 22, 2010
1/2, 3...Magic

For anyone with a mind for Xs and Os, here’s a post from an Orlando sports blog that breaks down the 1/2 pick & roll that SVG used to temporarily exhume the corpse of Vince Carter yesterday. Apparently it was a throwback to Vince’s days as a Net (in more ways than one, considering he actually sunk some shots).

Thanks to Kevin Pelton (@kpelton on Twitter) for putting it out there (via @erivera7).

-T

12:54pm  |   URL: http://www.josemesaisdead.com/post/405452527/1-2-3-magic
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FILED UNDER: NBA Cavs Magic