Playoff Mind Games

In any sport, the playoffs are inevitably the time where teams bear down, focus, and try every trick, ploy, strategy, and maneuver they can to scratch out one more victory. This past Sunday, basketball may have witnessed one of the more peculiar playoff strategies Los Angeles Lakers head coach Phil Jackson reined in NBA-leading-scorer Kobe Bryant, who scored only 22 points in the teams 107-102 Game 1 loss to the Phoenix Suns. In certain respects, the strategy makes a lot of sense. LA is much stronger than Phoenix inside, so Jackson wanted to press that advantage by focusing more on promising power forward Kwame Brown than on Bryant. Also, talented though Bryant is, the Lakers cannot win a championship without strong contributions from the supporting cast, so Game 1 is as good a time as ever to try to get them involved.

But on a much more obvious level the strategy makes no sense at all. Kobe Bryant scored 81 points in a single game this season. He is the NBA's leading scorer and may very win the MVP award. He is the most dangerous weapon the Lakers have. In the playoffs, where every game counts, why would you not shoot all your bullets? In Sunday's game, when Bryant was given free range on offense in the fourth quarter, his shots weren't falling because he hadn't been able to establish a consistent flow earlier in the game. It seems that the Lakers had wasted their best asset.

Phil Jackson is not a stupid coach -- after all, he has one nine championships. Which is why I wonder if he's playing mind games with the Suns. Going into Game 1, the Suns undoubtedly had one defensive agenda: stop Kobe. But now after the Lakers nearly beat them in Game 1 without too much help from Bryant, their defensive game plan for the rest of the series suddenly becomes much more muddied. Do they focus on Bryant and get killed inside? Do they ease off on Kobe and risk being the victims of one of his offensive ambushes? Is it possible that Phil Jackson played a risky Game 1 hand by under-utilizing Bryant just to push the Suns back on their heels, to give the Lakers the advantage of surprising them game in and game out for the rest of the series with their offensive approach?

If that is indeed what Jackson has done, it only confirms for me his strategic brilliance. He found a way to turn a perceived weakness (the one-dimensional nature of the Lakers attack) and turned it into a source of frustration, doubt, and anxiety for the Phoenix Suns, a situation that can only improve LA's chances for victory.

The $106 Million Underdog?

Only in New York could a team with a payroll of $106 million be considered the underdog. The New York Mets, usually second-class citizens in this town, living perpetually in the shadow of Steinbrenner's Yankees, are the most exciting team in the baseball this year. In the extremely insular world of New York sports, however, what is even more important is that they are the most exciting team in town. Going into last night's game, the $229 million Yankees were 6-7, in the cellar of the AL East, playing uninspired and inconsistent ball all year. As has been the trend the last few years with this team, they look old, predictable, and creaking under the weight of the monumental pressure put upon them by their salaries and their pinstripes.

The Mets, on the other hand, were 10-3, at the top of the NL East, and playing an exciting style of baseball, combining great pitching with a productive, small-ball style National League offense. While the Mets have their share of Forbes 500 players, like Carlos Beltran and Carlos Delgado, they also have some of the most exciting, young, home-grown talent in the league in pitcher Brian Bannister, shortstop Jose Reyes, and, most specifically, stellar third baseman David Wright. Wright is off to a torrid start, batting .391 through 13 games, with the New York fans chanting “MVP” almost every time he steps to the plate. While the Mets have their flaws (most noticeably a weak pitching rotation and some shaky middle relief pitching), they are an intriguing mix of high-price free agent superstars (since, after all, this is New York) and wide-eyed, idealistic young prospects who have worked their way up to the big leagues.

With the Mets at 10-3 and the Yanks at 6-7, it feels like Rudy is running toward the end zone for the game winning touchdown. Perhaps it's a New York thing. The Mets have always been seen as lovable losers, as pull-up-bootstraps go-getters, valiantly trying to fill the baseball space left vacant by the departed Giants and Dodgers. And though they now spend almost as much money as anyone, have their own cable network like the Yankees, and are planning an expensive and breathtaking new ballpark to open in 2009, which will bring in even more cash, they still retain that underdog status, at least in the five boroughs. The baseball season is long and a lot can change, but at least for now, the Mets are the kings of the New York sports world, and I can't help but be happy for them.

Baseball's Brave New Statistical World

I'm currently reading Baseball between the Numbers: Why Everything You Know about the Game Is Wrong, put together by the people behind the excellent baseball statistics site Baseball Prospectus. If you read Michael Lewis's Moneyball and are hungry for more cutting-edge baseball thinking, I'd heartily recommend this book. While they do get into some heavy math explaining the latest baseball statistical analysis, these data are used to examine some of baseball's most basic questions, such as whether or not a team's lineup matters, whether or not baseball needs a salary cap, or whether or not Alex Rodriguez is overpaid. Using sometimes dry numerical methods in the service of such fascinating questions is what makes this book really work.

What the thinking baseball fan loves about sabermetrics (the nickname for the new "generation" of baseball statistics that have been in use since the 1970s) is that they dissect the game down to the constituent parts and really make you think about the game on the most basic level. Instead of accepting the hackneyed wisdom of TV analysts and grandparents who long for the Dodgers to return to Brooklyn, this new approach to baseball allows the interested fan to get some new perspectives on the game, which are truly exciting and valuable. You watch a game and see your favorite player strike out in a big spot and you think, "Geez, what a dope! Couldn't he at least have hit the ball?" and then you read Baseball between the Numbers and you learn that oftentimes a strikeout is less dangerous than a groundball, because of the chance of a double play. That's a very small issue, but even something like that expands and enlivens my experience of the game, revealing layers of possible interpretations I never even thought possible.

Team Chemistry

So what exactly is team chemistry? In theory, sports should be easy. You assemble the most talented athletes you can find, throw them together, and watch the magic happen. But as sports fans have experienced time and time again, it is rarely that simple. There is that weird, ineffable, indescribable thing called chemistry, the force that binds together individual talents into an even greater whole. It's what transforms chaos into harmony, also-rans into champions.

I was reminded of this incontrovertible sports truth last week as I watched the Phoenix Suns floundering as they tried to welcome back into the fold their dynamic superstar, Amare Stoudemire. Sidelined all year as he recovered from knee surgery as the Suns ran away with the Pacific Division, he attempted an early recovery last week and disrupted the delicate balance Phoenix had spent the entire season developing. After a stellar opening game in which he scored 20 points in 19 minutes leading Phoenix to victory, Stoudemire struggled in his subsequent games as the Suns floundered. Not only was Stoudemire disappointed in realizing that he might not be able to return this season, the Phoenix Suns were left confused and befuddled as their ineffable chemistry was nowhere to be seen. What had been a high-scoring, dynamic, cohesive unit all season long turned into a disorganized mess, style with no substance, form with no function.

How does that happen? Adding one of the league's greatest talents should only make the team better, not worse, right? Sports, though, does not happen in the fields of statistics we see in the morning box score – it happens on the court, the field, the ice. Just because Stoudemire averaged 26 points a game last year doesn't mean he'll walk right into the retooled Phoenix Suns and make them 26 points better. Not only is there the obvious point that his shots take shots away from others, but his presence disrupts the player rotations and delicate egos that go along with them that have made the team such a success. By the time most teams get to the playoffs in April, they know where the other guy is going to be on the court before he even gets there. Adding a dominant piece in late March, no matter how transcendent that talent, is bound to cause trouble. It happened when Jordan returned from his first retirement, it happened when Webber returned to the Kings in their prime, and it happened to Phoenix this year.

It appears, however, that Stoudemire might just pack it in this season and wait till he's 100% next season. And while Phoenix may not be able to beat San Antonio without his inside presence, they probably wouldn't even make it to a showdown with the Spurs if Stoudemire hung around and continued to disrupt the team. Hopefully the Suns will be able to get back on track before the playoffs begin and go as far as they can. Being without their most talented player, ironically, may be the best shot they've got.

Japan Wins the World Baseball Classic

Last night Japan won the World Baseball Classic by defeating a resilient Cuba team in a 10-6 thriller. While the biggest story of the Classic has undoubtedly been the elimination of all the Major League-laden teams (USA, Dominican Republic, Venezuela, Puerto Rico), what's struck me most about the exhibition tournament has been the overall level of play and what that means for baseball as a whole. Despite limits on how many pitches pitchers could throw, the level of play in these games has been nothing short of fantastic, save a few blowouts (such as the USA's 17-0 pummelling of poor, poor South Africa). For the most part, the players and fans have been passionate and engaged. For many outside the United States, you got the feeling that the outcome of the WBC held more importance than who wins this year's "World Series," if it should even be called that anymore.

I consider myself as much of an "Americanist" as anyone else when it comes to sports. In my book, while everybody else has their nice little leagues, it's what happens in the North American pro leagues that really "matters." It's for that reason that I can't get all that jazzed or all that upset about Team USA's struggles in international basketball, since, to me, the NBA is where it's at. Since all the world's elite players play in the NBA anyway, that championship takes on added significance (which is why someone like, say, Manu Ginobili or Tony Parker seem to play with as much or even more passion for their NBA club than they do in international competition). I thought I would feel the same way about the WBC, but as I watched these games, I found myself being drawn in, seeing the intensity, grit, and determination of all these different players playing to prove the strength and mettle of their homelands. There was an overall sense that these games meant something, something bigger and more important than a trophy or a year-end bonus. And as much as the Americanist in me cringes at the thought, whoever wins this year's "World Series," calling themselves the "world champions," will have to try to sleep at night with nagging question of whether they could defeat Japan, let alone the amazingly talented runner-up, Cuba. (Remember, as has been noted to no end already, there were only two MLB players competing in the final, both on Japan's squad.)

The entire world has watched baseball played on an enormous stage, at a level, both technically and emotionally, rarely seen in the North American majors. Commissioner Bud Selig has been a big proponent of the WBC in order to spread the popularity of baseball throughout the world, though in so doing, he may have damaged the reputation and luster of his own North American professional baseball league. So, while I can't wait to see who will be crowned the champions of Major League Baseball this year, the specialness of that distinction will be muted somewhat by the real anticipation -- to see Cuba come roaring back with a vengeance, to see Japan try to defend their title, to see the USA and the Dominican try to rehabilitate their damaged reputations, to see South Africa make some progress, all in the next, early awaited WBC in 2009.

Barry Bonds and the Sacredness of Baseball's Numbers

As Barry Bonds begins the 2006 season on the brink of passing Babe Ruth's mark of 714 career home runs and Hank Aaron's all-time record of 755, there has been a lot of talk about Commissioner Bud Selig invalidating Bonds's achievements in light of the suspicions about his steroid use. Since steroids were not even forbidden in baseball until 2002 and since even after that Bonds has never tested positive for using them, Selig cannot justifiably suspend the slugger or kick him out of the game. In light of that fact, many have hoped that Selig will declare any records set by Bonds to be ill-gotten and unofficial, which he has the power to do as the head of the game. While I understand that many feel hurt and betrayed by Bonds, I do not think this is the way to go.

I am not denying that Bonds is a braggart, a malcontent, and a jerk. I am also not saying that didn't take steroids, because it seems like he did. And if it is proved that he lied to a federal grand jury in the BALCO investigation, I think he should receive whatever penalty is due to him. What I am saying is that Bonds's accomplishments should not be invalidated because of the rules of baseball at the time. All records in baseball are conditional and contextual. Babe Ruth hit 714 career home runs, yes, but for most of his career he never played in a night game or on a west coast road trip. He didn't do these things because the rules and structure of baseball were not set up that way in his day. Do we say, “Yeah, he hit 714 homers, but he never played at night, so his records shouldn't count?” Of course not. And with Hank Aaron, he played in the era before the relief pitcher, where often haggard and tired starters pitched complete games, bringing less than stellar stuff into the later innings, which certainly inflated his home run total. Again, no asterisk there either. We like to think that we can reasonably compare numbers across generations, if only steroids wouldn't muck up the works, but it is not that simple.

With the case of Barry Bonds (and Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, for that matter), I don't think they should be penalized for gaining a competitive advantage in a way that was not against the rules at the time they did it. Lying about it afterwards I don't agree with, but if anyone is to blame, it is Major League Baseball and not the individual players. If steroids truly do tarnish the game as much as MLB claims, then they should have done something about it much much sooner. I fear that in casting Bonds as the villain in this story (which is very easy to do) is to lose sight of the larger picture: that Major League Baseball sat by and let the steroid scandal run wildly out of control because all those home runs were putting fans in the stands, and now that cat's out of the bag, Selig is going to leave Bonds out in the cold. For any side to take some sort of moral high ground in this situation is a joke.

Babe Ruth played in a time of day games, Hank Aaron in a time of no relief pitchers, and Barry Bonds in a time of accepted steroid use. Every supposedly sacred and timeless baseball statistic is a product of its time. Yes, Barry Bonds may hit more home runs than anyone else who ever played the game, but I don't think that tarnishes the sport or ruins his legacy. We will just have to process and understand whatever numbers he puts up with the era in which he played in mind, just as we have every other record set in the game's history.

Malcolm Gladwell on NBA GMs and the Knicks

The other day I heard about Malcolm Gladwell's blog for the first time, and I must say that is wonderful. I'm sure that everyone and their grandmother has heard of Gladwell by now: in addition to being one of the most prominent and prolific New Yorker contributors over the last few years, he's also the author of the wildly successful non-fiction books The Tipping Point and Blink. He recently started a blog, hosted at his website and, to my surprise, a good portion of his first posts have been about sports, in particular the NBA. He and the ESPN columnist Bill Simmons have been engaging in a back-and-forth e-mail exchange in which they discuss issues in sports on a fairly high level. Since that's the mission of this blog as well, I was understandably very interested.

One of Gladwell's recent posts, titled "NBA Heuristics", I find particularly interesting. He poses an interesting thought experiment. He imagines himself as an NBA GM who knows nothing about anything and has as his entire drafting, signing, and trading strategy to acquire only players who attended the two best basketball schools, Duke University and University of Connecticut. For those who have read Blink, Gladwell's move here is very familiar -- he suspects that all that we think we know doesn't amount to much, and that a much simpler decision-making criterion could be just as effective. He imagines a scenario in which he plausibly could put together one of the league's best teams (featuring some combination of Elton Brand, Shane Battier, Ray Allen, Richard Hamilton, Ben Gordon, etc.). Under a player-acquisition strategy that any idiot could have come up with, he posits, a GM could come out looking like a pretty smart person. If NBA GMs would just admit they don't know what they are doing, swallow their pride and adopt simple schemes like Gladwell's Duke/UConn plan, teams like the Knicks would be much better off.

There are certainly logistical holes in Gladwell's argument, but I don't think that's the point -- it's a thought experiment, so we're supposed to think about the deeper issues involved. Living in New York, reading the sports section brings these types of questions to mind every single day. Knicks GM Isiah Thomas makes move after move, all in the name of stockpiling talent and getting younger and stronger, but the team just gets worse and worse. It seems that Thomas tinkers with the team because he feels he has to do something -- if he doesn't, then he won't be working to earn his very lucrative contract. But I agree with Gladwell, especially when discussing the Knicks -- if Thomas came out and said, "Look, I don't know how to run a team, but Duke and UConn seem to know what they are doing, so I'm just going to trust their judgment and acquire only their players," I think the Knicks would definitely get better than they are now. In fact, the Chicago Bulls and the Charlotte Bobcats seem to have adopted a variation of this strategy -- in the last few drafts, these two teams have selected only players from championship or near-championship college or international teams (the Bulls with Argentinian Andres Nocioni, UConn's Ben Gordon, Kansas's Kirk Heinrich, and Duke's Luol Deng, and the Bobcats with UConn's Emeka Okafor and the University of North Carolina's Sean May and Raymond Felton).

What I really appreciated about Gladwell's piece was how he demystifies the task of the NBA GM. Here in NY, Isiah Thomas makes it sound like the most difficult, mysterious, and meticulous job in the universe -- it requires superhuman patience, tinkering, wheeling, dealing, and attention. But what if it isn't that difficult at all? If he'd just acquire only Dukies, for instance, the team would be better off, but he wouldn't seem so smart or clever, an image which, of course, he has a vested interest in protecting.

New York Knicks fans, of course, would like to go one step further with Thomas -- that he be barred from making any moves at all! No more trades, no more signings, no more draft picks, since with every piece he adds, the teams gets worse. Perhaps the franchise should just be left to devour itself, shedding its dead weight until they don't have enough players to suit up and take the court. At that point, at least, the physical reality would match the philosophical reality that all thinking fans already know to exist: that the Knicks have ceased to be anything resembling a functioning, viable, and vibrant basketball team.