sideshow bob: slate article
- Thread starter haverford
- Start date
lancelet's cousin
Veteran
- Joined
- Mar 3, 2005
- Posts
- 463
- Reaction score
- 0
That's a great article. I can't believe anyone would recommend Horry for the HOF.
Sportswriters are, by and large, sheepish.
Sportswriters are, by and large, sheepish.
Big Shot Bob bags another one
By Bill Simmons
Page 2
Somebody needs to go through Robert Horry's playoff games, pluck out all the big plays and shots, then run them in sequence for like 10 straight minutes with one of those cool sports video songs playing (like Aerosmith's "Dream On," or Led Zeppelin's "The Rain Song"). Who wouldn't enjoy that? I bet Horry has made at least 20 to 25 humongous shots over the years. Seriously.
Now …
You might be asking yourself, "Wait, that opening paragraph sounded a little familiar." Well, it should. I wrote it two summers ago.
Here's the point: Even if Horry had retired in 2003, we would have remembered Big Shot Bob for life. But he saved his defining moment for Sunday night, throwing a rattled Spurs team on his back in Detroit and making … I mean … it would almost demean what happened to write something like "some huge 3-pointers" or "a number of game-saving plays." Considering the situation (a budding Spurs collapse that seemed eerily reminiscent of the 2004 Lakers series), the circumstances (nobody else on his team was stepping up) and the opponent (one of the best defensive teams ever, playing at home), Horry's Game 5 ranks alongside MJ's Game 6 in 1998, Worthy's Game 7 in 1988, Frazier's Game 7 in 1970 and every other clutch Finals performance over the years. If Horry hadn't scored 21 of his team's last 35 points, the Spurs would have been "Dead Man Walking" heading back to San Antonio. Instead, they're probably going to win the title Tuesday night.
(And forget about saving the season; Horry probably altered the course of Tim Duncan's career. If the Spurs had lost that game, they would have eventually blown the series and everyone would have blamed Duncan all summer, mainly because of his epic stink bomb down the stretch that brought back memories of Karl Malone and Elvin Hayes. Now he's just another great player who had an atrocious game at the wrong time. That's the power of Big Shot Bob. And if you think a rejuvenated/relieved/thankful Duncan isn't throwing up a 35-15 Tuesday night, you're crazy.)
My favorite thing about Sunday night's game: When Horry drained that go-ahead three at the end of the third quarter, it was like sitting at a poker table with a good player who plays possum for an hour, then suddenly pushes a stack of chips into the middle. Uh-oh. He's making his move. You could just see it coming. The rest of the game played out like that – the Spurs always one mistake from blowing the game, Horry bailing them out again and again. By the time he jammed home that astounding lefty dunk in overtime, everyone knew the game would somehow end up in Horry's hands.
Well, everyone but Rasheed Wallace.
(That reminds me. We're always too quick to demolish athletes who make dumb plays or screw up at the worst possible times, from Byner's fumble to C-Webb's timeout to poor Bill Buckner … but at the same time, I feel like 'Sheed's brainfart will somehow get swept under the rug in the afterglow of such an electric game. Let the record show that Wallace's decision to leave a scorching-hot Horry to double-team Ginobili was the single dumbest play in the history of the NBA Finals. For sweeping significance and staggering inexplicability, it cannot be topped. I'm telling you.)
Horry's career has always been a nice litmus test for the question, "Do you understand the game of basketball or not?" Nearly all of his strengths aren't things that casual fans would notice. He's the kind of guy who would be useless on the "And 1" tour. For instance, he's a terrific help defender who constantly covers for his teammates. He's big enough to handle power forwards and quick enough to handle small forwards. He picks his spots and only asserts himself in big situations when his team truly needs him. He doesn't care about stats or touches – at all – which gives him something in common with maybe 2 percent of the league. And he gets better when it matters. What more would you want from a supporting player?
Lord knows I've written about him enough times. I once compared him to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, explaining that "Nobody ever talks about him, but he's always there when you need him, just like the Peebee and Jay." I compared him to Nate Dogg, John Cazale and every other famous person who flew under the radar screen but always ended up in good situations. When someone asked me in a recent mailbag whether I would have Horry's career (multiple rings and rich) or Barkley/Malone's careers (no rings and obscenely rich), I opted for Horry's career (and didn't even think twice). Imagine playing on five (soon to be six) championship teams, ending up with a cool nickname, making $50 million, earning the everlasting respect of everyone who ever played with or against you … and you didn't have to deal with any of the superstar BS? Have a great game, everyone notices you. Have a terrible game, nobody notices you. And that's your life. Doesn't that sound like the ultimate gig?
In a league loaded with guys who believe they're better than they actually are, Horry understands his own strengths and limitations better than anyone. That's what makes him so great. And that's why I like the poker analogy for him. He's the guy sitting at the table with a towering stack of chips, the guy who never chases a bad hand, the guy who makes your heart pound when he's staring you down. You never remember the hands he lost, but you always remember the ones he won. And when he finally cashes out and gets up from the table, you hope you never have to see him again.
Does that make him a Hall of Famer some day? Before this spring, I would have said no … and then Steve Nash won the MVP. Now I'm prepared for anything. But you know where I stand. Instead of making Horry's case in full, I'm telling you a story that hasn't even happened yet. Maybe it will be this summer, maybe next summer, maybe 15 years from now. But when ESPN Classic shows Game 5 of the 2005 Finals some day and I'm calling my buddy House just to tell him, "Turn on Classic, they're showing the Robert Horry Game," I can pretty much guarantee his response:
"Which one?"
Bill Simmons is a columnist for Page 2 and ESPN The Magazine. His Sports Guy's World site is updated every day Monday through Friday.
By Bill Simmons
Page 2
Somebody needs to go through Robert Horry's playoff games, pluck out all the big plays and shots, then run them in sequence for like 10 straight minutes with one of those cool sports video songs playing (like Aerosmith's "Dream On," or Led Zeppelin's "The Rain Song"). Who wouldn't enjoy that? I bet Horry has made at least 20 to 25 humongous shots over the years. Seriously.
Now …
You might be asking yourself, "Wait, that opening paragraph sounded a little familiar." Well, it should. I wrote it two summers ago.
Here's the point: Even if Horry had retired in 2003, we would have remembered Big Shot Bob for life. But he saved his defining moment for Sunday night, throwing a rattled Spurs team on his back in Detroit and making … I mean … it would almost demean what happened to write something like "some huge 3-pointers" or "a number of game-saving plays." Considering the situation (a budding Spurs collapse that seemed eerily reminiscent of the 2004 Lakers series), the circumstances (nobody else on his team was stepping up) and the opponent (one of the best defensive teams ever, playing at home), Horry's Game 5 ranks alongside MJ's Game 6 in 1998, Worthy's Game 7 in 1988, Frazier's Game 7 in 1970 and every other clutch Finals performance over the years. If Horry hadn't scored 21 of his team's last 35 points, the Spurs would have been "Dead Man Walking" heading back to San Antonio. Instead, they're probably going to win the title Tuesday night.
(And forget about saving the season; Horry probably altered the course of Tim Duncan's career. If the Spurs had lost that game, they would have eventually blown the series and everyone would have blamed Duncan all summer, mainly because of his epic stink bomb down the stretch that brought back memories of Karl Malone and Elvin Hayes. Now he's just another great player who had an atrocious game at the wrong time. That's the power of Big Shot Bob. And if you think a rejuvenated/relieved/thankful Duncan isn't throwing up a 35-15 Tuesday night, you're crazy.)
My favorite thing about Sunday night's game: When Horry drained that go-ahead three at the end of the third quarter, it was like sitting at a poker table with a good player who plays possum for an hour, then suddenly pushes a stack of chips into the middle. Uh-oh. He's making his move. You could just see it coming. The rest of the game played out like that – the Spurs always one mistake from blowing the game, Horry bailing them out again and again. By the time he jammed home that astounding lefty dunk in overtime, everyone knew the game would somehow end up in Horry's hands.
Well, everyone but Rasheed Wallace.
(That reminds me. We're always too quick to demolish athletes who make dumb plays or screw up at the worst possible times, from Byner's fumble to C-Webb's timeout to poor Bill Buckner … but at the same time, I feel like 'Sheed's brainfart will somehow get swept under the rug in the afterglow of such an electric game. Let the record show that Wallace's decision to leave a scorching-hot Horry to double-team Ginobili was the single dumbest play in the history of the NBA Finals. For sweeping significance and staggering inexplicability, it cannot be topped. I'm telling you.)
Horry's career has always been a nice litmus test for the question, "Do you understand the game of basketball or not?" Nearly all of his strengths aren't things that casual fans would notice. He's the kind of guy who would be useless on the "And 1" tour. For instance, he's a terrific help defender who constantly covers for his teammates. He's big enough to handle power forwards and quick enough to handle small forwards. He picks his spots and only asserts himself in big situations when his team truly needs him. He doesn't care about stats or touches – at all – which gives him something in common with maybe 2 percent of the league. And he gets better when it matters. What more would you want from a supporting player?
Lord knows I've written about him enough times. I once compared him to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, explaining that "Nobody ever talks about him, but he's always there when you need him, just like the Peebee and Jay." I compared him to Nate Dogg, John Cazale and every other famous person who flew under the radar screen but always ended up in good situations. When someone asked me in a recent mailbag whether I would have Horry's career (multiple rings and rich) or Barkley/Malone's careers (no rings and obscenely rich), I opted for Horry's career (and didn't even think twice). Imagine playing on five (soon to be six) championship teams, ending up with a cool nickname, making $50 million, earning the everlasting respect of everyone who ever played with or against you … and you didn't have to deal with any of the superstar BS? Have a great game, everyone notices you. Have a terrible game, nobody notices you. And that's your life. Doesn't that sound like the ultimate gig?
In a league loaded with guys who believe they're better than they actually are, Horry understands his own strengths and limitations better than anyone. That's what makes him so great. And that's why I like the poker analogy for him. He's the guy sitting at the table with a towering stack of chips, the guy who never chases a bad hand, the guy who makes your heart pound when he's staring you down. You never remember the hands he lost, but you always remember the ones he won. And when he finally cashes out and gets up from the table, you hope you never have to see him again.
Does that make him a Hall of Famer some day? Before this spring, I would have said no … and then Steve Nash won the MVP. Now I'm prepared for anything. But you know where I stand. Instead of making Horry's case in full, I'm telling you a story that hasn't even happened yet. Maybe it will be this summer, maybe next summer, maybe 15 years from now. But when ESPN Classic shows Game 5 of the 2005 Finals some day and I'm calling my buddy House just to tell him, "Turn on Classic, they're showing the Robert Horry Game," I can pretty much guarantee his response:
"Which one?"
Bill Simmons is a columnist for Page 2 and ESPN The Magazine. His Sports Guy's World site is updated every day Monday through Friday.
You must be registered for see images
Another Horry article from Father's Day.
Tale of Three Fathers
By David Aldridge
Inquirer Staff Writer
SAN ANTONIO, Texas - The fathers worked late into the night Sunday. It was Father's Day, but there was no day off for these dads, so many of them, their professional lives intersecting at one moment, their lives about to change in 9.4 seconds, for good or for ill.
Late into the night, it was Robert Horry, on this day both father and son, who turned the NBA world on its ear, who seemed to turn back time. He scored all his 21 points in the final 18 minutes of regulation time and overtime, hitting the winning three-pointer with 5.8 seconds to go, to give his San Antonio Spurs an improbable 96-95 Game 5 win and a three-games-to-two lead in the NBA Finals.
And because of that, all the other fathers' lives shifted and changed like sand in a windstorm.
Horry's father, Robert Sr., was at the game, as was Horry's 6-year-old son, Robert Cameron.
"I've got the two important men in my life at this game," Horry said afterward. "I'm happy I was able to do this in front of them. My dad was like, 'You haven't given me but two [three-pointers] since I've been here. You need to give me more threes.' So I had to go out and knock a few down."
He made five three-pointers in six attempts.
Horry rarely talks about his older daughter, Ashlyn, who lives with Horry's wife, Keva, and his son in Houston. Ashlyn Horry has a neurological disorder that has rendered her speechless and unable to walk.
Do you wonder why Robert Horry doesn't take making or missing a big shot so seriously?
"My kids are still going to love me," he is fond of saying.
But Horry's shot made another father, Larry Brown, doggone near catatonic. Because of it, tonight's Game 6 may be the last time Brown coaches the Pistons. He says he wants to come back next season and coach in Detroit, but it may no longer be his choice.
The rumor that Brown already has committed to moving his family back to their friends in Philadelphia has persisted for weeks, regardless of whether he takes the Cleveland Cavaliers executive spot we've heard so much about. And his children - his son, L.J., and daughter Madison - are terribly important to Brown, who has adult daughters from a previous marriage.
"If I'm fortunate enough to keep doing this - because I do, in my mind, I still have the passion to do it - that would be great," Brown said Sunday. "And if I don't have the opportunity, I'll get to smell my kids and be around them a little bit more... . It will give me opportunities to not miss games and see my daughter skate or just hang out."
Horry's shot also made a chump of Rasheed Wallace. Wallace was guarding Horry, then inexplicably left him to double-team Manu Ginobili in the corner. It took Ginobili a nanosecond to throw the ball back to a wide-open Horry, Wallace's man.
Swish.
No one in the Detroit locker room had any explanation for what Wallace did.
One Pistons employee, in management, couldn't believe what he saw. There was, simply, no way Wallace could have misunderstood, with the Pistons ahead by two.
"Not in the Finals," he said in the hallway, 20 minutes after Horry's last shot found the bottom of the net. "Maybe in a regular-season game. But not in the Finals, not in the Finals, not in the Finals," the words certain to loop in his brain.
It will be hard to find in the reams of copy that will be dedicated in the coming days to branding him a fool - for it was a mindless play - but Wallace is a father, too. He has three boys and a girl.
The day before he decided to leave Horry, he decided to bring his children to a bowling fund-raiser in Detroit. He laughed with them and with - gasp - sportswriters, and lost more money than he won. And if you must know the truth, if there's a lockout, Rasheed Wallace wouldn't be all that broken up over it, because he could spend more time with his kids.
But that was the previous day, and in the present day, he had to explain just what in God's name he was thinking by leaving a guy nicknamed "Big Shot Bob."
"I just tried to double," Wallace said. "Basic defense."
And with that, Wallace was off into the night, defined for better or worse - likely worse, much worse. He was another father who had finished his shift and was ready to go home.
Tale of Three Fathers
By David Aldridge
Inquirer Staff Writer
SAN ANTONIO, Texas - The fathers worked late into the night Sunday. It was Father's Day, but there was no day off for these dads, so many of them, their professional lives intersecting at one moment, their lives about to change in 9.4 seconds, for good or for ill.
Late into the night, it was Robert Horry, on this day both father and son, who turned the NBA world on its ear, who seemed to turn back time. He scored all his 21 points in the final 18 minutes of regulation time and overtime, hitting the winning three-pointer with 5.8 seconds to go, to give his San Antonio Spurs an improbable 96-95 Game 5 win and a three-games-to-two lead in the NBA Finals.
And because of that, all the other fathers' lives shifted and changed like sand in a windstorm.
Horry's father, Robert Sr., was at the game, as was Horry's 6-year-old son, Robert Cameron.
"I've got the two important men in my life at this game," Horry said afterward. "I'm happy I was able to do this in front of them. My dad was like, 'You haven't given me but two [three-pointers] since I've been here. You need to give me more threes.' So I had to go out and knock a few down."
He made five three-pointers in six attempts.
Horry rarely talks about his older daughter, Ashlyn, who lives with Horry's wife, Keva, and his son in Houston. Ashlyn Horry has a neurological disorder that has rendered her speechless and unable to walk.
Do you wonder why Robert Horry doesn't take making or missing a big shot so seriously?
"My kids are still going to love me," he is fond of saying.
But Horry's shot made another father, Larry Brown, doggone near catatonic. Because of it, tonight's Game 6 may be the last time Brown coaches the Pistons. He says he wants to come back next season and coach in Detroit, but it may no longer be his choice.
The rumor that Brown already has committed to moving his family back to their friends in Philadelphia has persisted for weeks, regardless of whether he takes the Cleveland Cavaliers executive spot we've heard so much about. And his children - his son, L.J., and daughter Madison - are terribly important to Brown, who has adult daughters from a previous marriage.
"If I'm fortunate enough to keep doing this - because I do, in my mind, I still have the passion to do it - that would be great," Brown said Sunday. "And if I don't have the opportunity, I'll get to smell my kids and be around them a little bit more... . It will give me opportunities to not miss games and see my daughter skate or just hang out."
Horry's shot also made a chump of Rasheed Wallace. Wallace was guarding Horry, then inexplicably left him to double-team Manu Ginobili in the corner. It took Ginobili a nanosecond to throw the ball back to a wide-open Horry, Wallace's man.
Swish.
No one in the Detroit locker room had any explanation for what Wallace did.
One Pistons employee, in management, couldn't believe what he saw. There was, simply, no way Wallace could have misunderstood, with the Pistons ahead by two.
"Not in the Finals," he said in the hallway, 20 minutes after Horry's last shot found the bottom of the net. "Maybe in a regular-season game. But not in the Finals, not in the Finals, not in the Finals," the words certain to loop in his brain.
It will be hard to find in the reams of copy that will be dedicated in the coming days to branding him a fool - for it was a mindless play - but Wallace is a father, too. He has three boys and a girl.
The day before he decided to leave Horry, he decided to bring his children to a bowling fund-raiser in Detroit. He laughed with them and with - gasp - sportswriters, and lost more money than he won. And if you must know the truth, if there's a lockout, Rasheed Wallace wouldn't be all that broken up over it, because he could spend more time with his kids.
But that was the previous day, and in the present day, he had to explain just what in God's name he was thinking by leaving a guy nicknamed "Big Shot Bob."
"I just tried to double," Wallace said. "Basic defense."
And with that, Wallace was off into the night, defined for better or worse - likely worse, much worse. He was another father who had finished his shift and was ready to go home.
Attachments
lancelet's cousin said:
I posted the older Simmons' article because it was referenced in the first article of the thread...
Also...
Here's a quote from Horry himself on the HOF:
"I've played with some great players,'' Horry said. "I've played with, like, six Hall of Famers. I've been in the right place at the right time. I feel bad for those guys like (Charles) Barkley, (Patrick) Ewing. They can always say, 'I'm a Hall of Famer.' I'm never going to be able to say that. I'll just say, 'Hey, I won some championships.'''
But would he trade any of those rings for a Hall of Fame career?
"`Nope,'' he said.
elindholm
edited for content
I just want to make it clear that I think Bill Simmons is great. His columns are often excellent, he has a rare comedic gift, and his love for the NBA is infectuous.
However, if you read his perspective on gambling -- and he's not shy about sharing it -- it's pretty obvious that he's not the most rational of thinkers. He arrives at his opinions based on gut, then tries to justify them with contorted observations about "logic" and "patterns."
He's making that mistake with Horry, but I love him anyway.
However, if you read his perspective on gambling -- and he's not shy about sharing it -- it's pretty obvious that he's not the most rational of thinkers. He arrives at his opinions based on gut, then tries to justify them with contorted observations about "logic" and "patterns."
He's making that mistake with Horry, but I love him anyway.
Staff online
-
ShaneMy time of year! -
DevilmaycareKing of Technicalities -
Dback JonDoing it My Way -
Brian in MesaAdvocatus Diaboli
Members online
- kerouac9
- football karma
- BoiCard
- Ganachan
- AZCB34
- Shane
- leclerc
- Devilmaycare
- Chaplin
- Hoop Head
- netsnjkidd
- Bobster
- ASUCHRIS
- Town Drunk
- Dback Jon
- tennis-player
- gimpy
- Solar7
- dscher
- Cardsmasochist
- JohnnyCakes
- NMCard
- Rivercard
- unseenaz
- Cheesebeef
- Cardinal88
- Suns_fan69
- TheCardFan
- Brian in Mesa
- Luciano
- Russ Smith
- RedForeman
- SirStefan32
- londonpete
- Sandan
- Oklahoma Card
- 95pro
- Zeem_Freeze
- Phrazbit
- Superbone
- Dayman