Everything But Poker

So this is what I’ve been missing all these years. Wednesday night, after a miserable, rainy day in Southern California, the Clippers faced an unconventional foe that struck terror in the hearts of seasoned fans and was sure to do nothing but exacerbate our mid-winter gloom. For years, the Clippers have existed as a team just good enough to occasionally challenge tough teams that operate primarily in a standard half-court set, but not nearly cohesive or smart enough to adapt to those squads that thrive on speed, athleticism and a certain degree of organized chaos. But last night, against Derrick Rose and the Chicago Bulls, the Clippers finally did what good teams do: React, adapt, prevail.

Vinny Del Negro’s starting lineup was like nothing I had ever seen in the Staples Center. Kirk Hinrich (6-3), Rose (6-3), Luol Deng (6-9), Taj Gibson (6-9) and Joakim Noah (6-11) took the floor against the Clippers’ standard-as-it-gets starting squad with each member fit nicely into the PG-SG-SF-PF-C lineup convention. Not only were Chicago’s players of unorthodox sizes, they were also five of the six fastest players on the floor (Eric Gordon being the only Clipper that could possibly compete in a footrace).

From the opening tip – which Noah won – the Bulls demanded the game be played at a frenetic pace. Deng scored on a 15-foot jumper after a flurry of quick passes 15 seconds into the game, then Rose deflected the Clippers’ inbound pass off Baron Davis’ foot out of bounds. Eight seconds later Rose hit a jump shot from the elbow and the Clippers were trailing, 4-0, before their first possession.

By the end of the first quarter, Chicago held a 26-19 lead and refused to let the game slow down. Rose, whose lethal combination of size and quickness cannot be understated, wasted no time getting the ball up court after defensive rebounds and made shots, forcing the moderately fleet-a-foot Clipper tandem of Chris Kaman and Marcus Camby to bust their asses back on D. It was a pace that Clipper fans have clamored for since Baron Davis came to town, but now that the team had its hand forced by a much quicker and athletic squad, it became readily apparent why the disorder of Seven-Seconds-or-Less only suits a couple teams: You need the right players to run it.

And while the Bulls have all the quicks and hops to pull off Mike D’Antoni’s famed brainchild, they lack the discipline, intelligence and finely tuned skills that make the manic process work. Rose can get into the lane – and most of the time all the way to the rim – whenever he wants, but once he passes it off, there is no guarantee that Deng, Noah, Tyrus Thomas or Jannero Pargo will continue the flow to the next teammate, who undoubtedly stands wide open on the other side of the floor. That, and without John Salmons, who missed last night’s game with flu-like symptoms, they have no three-point threat to spread the floor (Chicago was 2-11 last night).

Nevertheless, it appeared early that the pace of the game alone would be enough to throw the Clippers off their game. After all, fans know this team is not accustomed to adjusting playing styles on the fly. True, the Clips blew out the high-scoring Warriors at the beginning of the season and they beat the Lakers a couple weeks ago by forcing turnovers and getting fast-break points, but at no point were Derek Fisher and Jordan Farmar initiating their offensive sets with more than 20 seconds left on the shot clock. That’s what Rose did, and Los Angeles responded with the exact same formula, only better.

Baron Davis and Sebastian Telfair ran the team with the control and confidence that Del Negro hopes Rose will gain as he gets older, albeit with a tad less explosiveness. With the vast compliment of talents surrounding the two point guards, from Eric Gordon and Rasual Butler on the perimeter to Kaman and Craig Smith in the paint, the Clippers proved that, in fact, they could adapt a new style to fit their opponent, and do it more effectively. Davis eventually took the game into his own hands, scoring 11 points in the fourth quarter including a deliberate shot-fake three-pointer that drew a foul, which led to a 104-97 Clippers' victory.

On the day that it was reported that Blake Griffin had successful knee surgery that “couldn’t have gone better,” the team gave its home fans a reason to believe that, when they return from an eight-game road trip that begins tonight in Denver, they may actually be closer to the playoffs than they are now. It’s not easy being a Clipper fan, but nights like Wednesday make me appreciate the things that fans of the Purple and Gold take for granted: That good players with intelligent floor leaders and clearly defined roles can react, adapt and prevail.

Follow Everything But Poker on Twitter: @widdoesSFL

While witnessing the Hornets blow out the Clippers about a month ago, I heard the familiar sounds of Clipper fans’ discontent permeating Staples Center and could feel the unspoken influence of one man controlling the event: Bill Simmons. Walking to the arena that night, I passed an ESPN Zone where hundreds of fans stood with dictionary-sized books in hand, waiting for a chance to shake the Sports Guy's hand and get his signature on The Book of Basketball, Simmons' latest tome.

I made sure to document the phenomenon, but soon headed into the arena, only to find that the first quarter was almost over and the rout was already on. Baron Davis and Co. loafed around the floor the same way they did from January through April last spring, Chris Paul darted wherever he wanted and scored at will, and the normally passive Clipper faithful were getting abnormally hostile.

The “Fire Dunleavy” chant has been present in some capacity during almost every home game for the past year, but it rarely spreads beyond a couple isolated shouts. That night, though, it was in full force. My section was right behind the Clipper bench and three guys about five rows back were undoubtedly spearheading the stadium-wide charge. By halftime it was somewhat annoying, but into the third quarter the chants grew so loud that faces in the crowd and on the Clipper bench turned pissed. Despite having just won three games in a row to get to a 3-4 record, the Clippers were being berated by their home fans for playing their first bad game of the season.

So I went up to talk to the guys.

To be clear, I’m critical of a lot of things Dunleavy does, but I think he gets a way harder time than he deserves. And the Godfather of the Fire Dunleavy Campaign is unquestionably Simmons, who has taken every opportunity available to declare the coach completely inept. I have always found Simmons entertaining, especially on his podcast, and his writing is good most of the time. But his dedication to defaming Dunleavy, his Boston homerism and his worthless pop culture references really piss me off and make me think he is the model for all bad sports blogger stereotypes – except that he actually makes money, and a boatload of it at that. Nevertheless, I still read his columns, though with less frequency over the past few years.

So I walked up to talk to the three ringleaders, just to see if they thought what they were doing was in any way serving the purpose they sought. They immediately turned the discussion to how bad Dunleavy was at coaching, for which their main argument was his overall record with the Clippers – which is very bad, but can be at least partially explained by a series of pretty bad injuries (Elton Brand’s Achilles, Shaun Livingston’s knee, the entire 2008 roster) and one of the worst betrayals in NBA history (Brand silently walking out on a verbal agreement with Dunleavy and Baron Davis to go to Philly).

Other than that, though, the guys didn’t have much to support the notion that Dunleavy should lose his job. That’s when I asked if they ever read Bill Simmons.

“Oh yeah, of course we do,” they stammered in unison. “Simmons is the best!”

Jesus, of course you do! At that point I realized I had met my match, that Bill Simmons had reached a level of cultural influence so profound that entire games could be altered by his words. These three Sports Guy paeans were imparting his will without his consent – like Tyler Durden’s Project Mayhem (forgive the movie metaphor, but it actually works here) – and the players were clearly responding. They looked up into the stands trying to make eye contact with these guys the entire second half, they yelled at each other, all while falling farther and farther behind the Hornets. New Orleans may have won the game anyway, but the final spread took a hit that even Tim Donaghy couldn’t have foreseen, thanks to these three loudmouths.

Despite my inspiration to write a manifesto about Bill Simmons, though, the words and overall thesis have eluded me. I like him for entertaining me, informing me and bringing exposure to my favorite LA basketball team, unpleasant as it may be (hey, any press is good press). But I hate him for many other reasons, most of which can be summed up by the story I just told.

So left with no argument to make, I stumbled on this online forum from the New York Magazine website today, which made all my arguments for me. In it, six contemporary writers -- sports writers and others – dissect Simmons and his new book from every angle and level, both micro and macro. Take the time to read through it all, because there are few other writers today that demand so much attention and inspire so much debate.

Follow Everything But Poker on Twitter: @widdoesSFL

Eight months ago I watched a basketball team listlessly conclude another abysmal season – a conclusion that lasted about 30 games. The lack of basic interest in playing the game was unmistakable in this bunch from January until May, as opposing teams regularly walked into the Staples Center and effectively put games away before the start of the second quarter. All season, commentators pointed to the lack of cohesion among the players, an inept coach and an unrelenting slew of injuries as the likely sources of the Clippers’ horrid play, but the fact is it all began with one man: Baron Davis.

When the Clippers traded for Davis last summer – aside from the expectation that he would team up with Elton Brand to bring the team back to the playoffs – they expected to get the superhero of the 2007 playoffs. That summer, Mike Dunleavy watched from his couch as this bearded assassin caused mayhem in Oakland after taking out the league’s best team that year, the Mavericks, then threw down the most vicious dunk of this millennium in a narrow second-round defeat to the Jazz, all while leaving the sports world dumbfounded with his ruthlessly dope style (which inspired one of the best blog names in history). At that point, every coach in the NBA wanted Baron Davis on his team.



So in preparation for his homecoming last fall, Davis hyped up the way his new team would play fast-paced, made sure the whole city knew he was coming to paint the town Clipper red, white and blue … and then toned his body with the fat girl’s diet – Jenny Craig. Once the season started, the fastest break the Clippers could run was a light jog that looked more like a “yog” (It’s a soft J). Writers claimed that Dunleavy was holding Baron back when it was actually the other way around: Baron was too slow to beat any other guard of the dribble last season so he had to slow it down, pass it off or chuck up a contested fadeaway 20-foot jumper. In the NBA, your team is only as fast as your point guard, and Baron Davis was undeniably slower than he had ever been, in spite of his distorted self-image as one of the league’s quickest and deadliest players.

This is no longer the case. I stepped back into the Staples Center last night unconvinced of what I had heard from the training camp reports – the Davis had returned in excellent shape with a new-found dedication to his own performance and the team’s success. And through the first half of Monday night’s game against the Warriors, my doubts were confirmed. The team looked confused in its halfcourt sets, defended the high screen-and-roll terribly and managed to give up 73 first-half points – an astonishingly feat even during preseason.

But then the Clips took the floor in the third quarter and Boom Dizzle came out like a man possessed. Dunleavy substituted Rasual Butler for Al Thornton in the starting lineup (which will hopefully be the case for the remainder of the season) and the scoring onslaught began. LA opened the third quarter on a 22-5 run, highlighted by two Davis steals just past halfcourt within the first two minutes – the second of which Baron dove for like an earthquake had just hit. He spent the rest of the period abusing Monta Ellis and Stephen Curry, crossing them up then driving into the lane before kicking the ball back out to sharpshooters like Butler and Eric Gordon.

Just as the Clippers tied the ball game late in the quarter and the crowd began to sense that familiar Clipper feeling of an impending blown fourth-quarter lead, the first pick in the draft, Blake Griffin, stepped on the floor and completely embarrassed the Golden State bigs, grabbing rebounds, blocking shots and abusing forwards of all shapes and sizes from the post and the wing. It was a remarkable sight, especially after sitting through so many lackluster performances last season, and it was no doubt a product of Davis’ explosion in the third.

The best parts of the night, though, were not while the ball was in play. During time outs and free throws, Davis and Dunleavy held these intimate discussions that appeared more like conversations between assistant coaches. Last season Baron scoffed at every Dunleavy direction, and the coach turned sour at the first sign of indignation. On Monday there was dialogue, a series of intense deliberations that seemed highlighted not by stubbornness, but mutual respect. Baron Davis wants to make a good name or himself in his hometown, and he knows that last season did as much to kill his rep as any performance could have. But now he’s slimmed down, he’s motivated and he’s got that swagger back that led him to walk into an arena for a playoff game with a bullet fedora on top of that mangy beard.