Treesquid PhD
Pardon my Engrish
Suns aren't broken but have heart trouble
The Suns are no longer a running, stunning wonder to behold. On some nights, they're not even the best team in the Pacific Division. When the calendar turns to 2008, let's hope this diminished group can find a keener sense of purpose.
Otherwise, a memorable era of basketball could end in a first-round playoff ouster. Planet Orange could spontaneously combust.
Please, don't bother with the rationalizations, the pretty pictures and how the Suns rank among the Western Conference leaders in victories. That condition will get even better in the coming weeks, as the schedule softens. But you won't find this problem in the standings: It's in the heart.
It's inside the room. It's in the small things that lead to big things. It's in the collective passion of a group that is showing some natural wear and tear, along with the trademark signs of splintering.
The Suns aren't broken. But they're not right, either.
"I don't think it's great," Suns coach Mike D'Antoni said of his team's general state of being. "It is what it is. What you look for is what you get. But I do think we're better than what the perception is right now."
Alas, in terms of perception, this team has already fallen a long way. After a Christmas Day loss on national television, one NBA analyst said the Lakers had passed the Suns, and it wasn't even close. The other night, team broadcaster Dan Majerle called the Suns the "worst rebounding team in the league." These are not the words you normally hear on the way to a championship, and the general angst among Suns fans is that a special gift and a special opportunity may be slipping away.
There has been front-office bungling, to be sure. Contracts given to the underachieving Boris Diaw and Marcus Banks have choked the franchise at a tenuous time. The pawning of draft picks has prevented an infusion of fresh talent, while the cost-effective trade of Kurt Thomas hurts more than it should. Meanwhile, all the grumbling about chemistry problems this season surely has led to some heavy questions at the management table.
Should they acquire another new piece, a fresh face to charge the room? Should they trade away a key piece and hope for addition by subtraction? Should they ditch D'Antoni's system and begin feeding the ball to an unstoppable force - Amaré Stoudemire - who makes almost 59 percent of his shots?
For most of this season, Stoudemire has ranked just above Grant Hill for third place in field-goal attempts, behind reserve Leandro Barbosa and Shawn Marion. Given Stoudemire's skills, that's beyond an egregious tactical error. That's plain stupid. After Saturday's abbreviated practice, D'Antoni hinted that there could be some alterations to the overall approach.
"I like my system, but only if that's the best system we have," D'Antoni said. "If we have something better, we'll try other stuff. Whatever is our best look is what we're going to give. You do have more holes (in the current system) because you are playing faster, you are exposed more, you are smaller and you have to have more fight in the dog. But it's kind of sad when you have to go away from that because you can't get it (from the players)."
That's a remarkable concession, and the shame is, it doesn't have to be this way. When committed to nothing but collective glory, this team can be a devastating force of talent and speed. With the right mix and mind-set of players, D'Antoni's system can be visionary, not inherently flawed. But in the NBA, all it takes is one guy who wants more shots or one guy who wants out of town, and everything is out of balance.
Luckily, a new year can change one's outlook immensely, and I suggest that: Steve Nash go out of his way to get Stoudemire the ball early and often, as in 20 or more shots per game; that Raja Bell be the gritty, dirty emotional leader, not the guy worrying about his shot and helping Kobe Bryant off the floor; that Stoudemire hustle at all times, actually playing defense as well as he talks about playing defense; that Marion stays on board when he doesn't get named to the All-Star team; that everyone understands the great gift of playing with a point guard like Nash.
Also: That Barbosa drives more and shoots less; that the painfully passive Diaw understands how much his coach has done for him and what the Frenchman has done in return. (Back home, I believe the word is guillotine.)
But more than anything, I want these Suns to pretend they love each other all over again. I want them to believe they're something special together, a blowtorch of a team that once made opponents scream for oxygen and mercy. Those were the days.
I pretty much agree with him 100%
The Suns are no longer a running, stunning wonder to behold. On some nights, they're not even the best team in the Pacific Division. When the calendar turns to 2008, let's hope this diminished group can find a keener sense of purpose.
Otherwise, a memorable era of basketball could end in a first-round playoff ouster. Planet Orange could spontaneously combust.
Please, don't bother with the rationalizations, the pretty pictures and how the Suns rank among the Western Conference leaders in victories. That condition will get even better in the coming weeks, as the schedule softens. But you won't find this problem in the standings: It's in the heart.
It's inside the room. It's in the small things that lead to big things. It's in the collective passion of a group that is showing some natural wear and tear, along with the trademark signs of splintering.
The Suns aren't broken. But they're not right, either.
"I don't think it's great," Suns coach Mike D'Antoni said of his team's general state of being. "It is what it is. What you look for is what you get. But I do think we're better than what the perception is right now."
Alas, in terms of perception, this team has already fallen a long way. After a Christmas Day loss on national television, one NBA analyst said the Lakers had passed the Suns, and it wasn't even close. The other night, team broadcaster Dan Majerle called the Suns the "worst rebounding team in the league." These are not the words you normally hear on the way to a championship, and the general angst among Suns fans is that a special gift and a special opportunity may be slipping away.
There has been front-office bungling, to be sure. Contracts given to the underachieving Boris Diaw and Marcus Banks have choked the franchise at a tenuous time. The pawning of draft picks has prevented an infusion of fresh talent, while the cost-effective trade of Kurt Thomas hurts more than it should. Meanwhile, all the grumbling about chemistry problems this season surely has led to some heavy questions at the management table.
Should they acquire another new piece, a fresh face to charge the room? Should they trade away a key piece and hope for addition by subtraction? Should they ditch D'Antoni's system and begin feeding the ball to an unstoppable force - Amaré Stoudemire - who makes almost 59 percent of his shots?
For most of this season, Stoudemire has ranked just above Grant Hill for third place in field-goal attempts, behind reserve Leandro Barbosa and Shawn Marion. Given Stoudemire's skills, that's beyond an egregious tactical error. That's plain stupid. After Saturday's abbreviated practice, D'Antoni hinted that there could be some alterations to the overall approach.
"I like my system, but only if that's the best system we have," D'Antoni said. "If we have something better, we'll try other stuff. Whatever is our best look is what we're going to give. You do have more holes (in the current system) because you are playing faster, you are exposed more, you are smaller and you have to have more fight in the dog. But it's kind of sad when you have to go away from that because you can't get it (from the players)."
That's a remarkable concession, and the shame is, it doesn't have to be this way. When committed to nothing but collective glory, this team can be a devastating force of talent and speed. With the right mix and mind-set of players, D'Antoni's system can be visionary, not inherently flawed. But in the NBA, all it takes is one guy who wants more shots or one guy who wants out of town, and everything is out of balance.
Luckily, a new year can change one's outlook immensely, and I suggest that: Steve Nash go out of his way to get Stoudemire the ball early and often, as in 20 or more shots per game; that Raja Bell be the gritty, dirty emotional leader, not the guy worrying about his shot and helping Kobe Bryant off the floor; that Stoudemire hustle at all times, actually playing defense as well as he talks about playing defense; that Marion stays on board when he doesn't get named to the All-Star team; that everyone understands the great gift of playing with a point guard like Nash.
Also: That Barbosa drives more and shoots less; that the painfully passive Diaw understands how much his coach has done for him and what the Frenchman has done in return. (Back home, I believe the word is guillotine.)
But more than anything, I want these Suns to pretend they love each other all over again. I want them to believe they're something special together, a blowtorch of a team that once made opponents scream for oxygen and mercy. Those were the days.
I pretty much agree with him 100%
