The Conversation

Jordan Hill Edition
(This exchange took place a few hours before the draft)

WWOD?: i don't think I want him on the knicks. do i?

Hoopcat Counsel: You might. He's a pretty good athlete for his size, so he'll probably fit in with D'Antoni's style. But, he's not physically dominant and he's inconsistent. I feel like he's a stronger, better-rebounding version of Channing Frye. Which I guess isn't really saying much.

Images from the NBA Draft

March showers (of tournament hoops) have brought June flowers (blooming bank accounts) for generations of talented young basketball players. For the NBA's member clubs, upside springs eternal in the annual NBA Draft. It is the special day of the year when the Los Angeles Clippers and the various expansion franchises usually take center stage and the prime-time clubs like the Boston Celtics and Los Angeles Lakers are barely heard from. Fans convince themselves that titles can be won in June. Oh, wait. They are. But not today. Reams of fabric are used to produce unlikely and unforgettable seven-foot tall suits. Experimental team logo hats are unveiled to the horror of merchandise buying fans across the nation. Teenagers and twenty-somethings have their dreams come true before our eyes. Tears trickle down the plump cheeks of proud mothers in the green room. Beer trickles down the chin of drunk and disapointed fans at Madison Square Garden. Fortunes are made. Busts are born. And, most importantly, longtime NBA commissioner David Stern presides over each affair like a father over a son's bar mitzvah, greeting each top selection with a "mazel tov." Or something like that.

No. 1 pick Akeen Olajuwon greets a mustachioed David Stern at the 1984 draft


The Chicago Bulls tapped UNC scorer (and second-fiddle to James Worthy) with the No. 3 pick in '84.

Years later, Jordan, as GM of the Washington Wizards, would select high school center Kwame Brown with the top pick in the draft. Even Brown thought it was hilarious.

Sir Charles, another member of the heralded 1984 draft class, looked splendid on draft night.

The modern draft lottery had to be instituted in 1985 to keep teams from tanking in order to select Georgetown center Patrick Ewing.

Never known for his humility, a teenaged Kobe Bryant triumphantly takes the stage after being selected by the Charlotte Hornets with the 13th pick of the 1996 draft.

Lottery picks in 2006 and their clubs met in the 2009 Finals, but it's not what you think.

Jalen Rose in 1994. This fashion-forward forward has been credited with pioneering the long shorts trend.

Draft night can be an overwhelming but lonely occassion for foreign-born players like Yi Jianlian.

Or not.

After starring at UNLV, Larry Johnson was ready for prime time in 1991.

Be careful what you wish for.

This gentleman was drafted ahead of Loy Vaught, Dee Brown, Jayson Williams, Elden Campbell, Toni Kukoc, Antonio Davis and Cedric Ceballos in 1990.

From shaking hands with David Stern to trading cliches with Stewart Scott. It's sort of like going from a top college program to being selected by the Clippers. Booyah!

Less than 48 hours after being selected with the second pick in the 1986 draft by the Celtics, Len Bias died. Cocaine is a hell of a drug.

This suit is the most memorable aspect of Samaki Walker's NBA career.

And, the hits keep on coming...

In other white suit news, Lebron James went tops in 2003 and has not let anyone down.

The Kandi Man, on the other hand, let down many, many people after being the No. 1 selection in 1998.

Thumbs down

Kenny "Sky" Walker (left) and the top picks in the 1986 draft.

Members of the Class of 2008

The 15th pick in the 1996 draft, Steve Nash would go on to win two MVP awards.

This jacket was Penny Hardaway's size.

Although this mop-topped Serbian was selected 14th in the 1996 draft (just ahead of Steve Nash), he played in Europe for two more years.

Shaq, the star of the 1992 NBA Draft, has managed to become the center of attention on draft day in 2009 when a trade sent him to the Lebronaliers.

Coming out of Louisiana Tech in 1985, Karl Malone was not projected to be a superstar. Or deliver mail. But he sure looked nice.

No. 2 pick Kevin Durant brought his great-uncle Cyrus to New York for the Draft in 2007.

Craziest. National Handshake Day. Ever.

Aside from the fact that my sixth favorite June observance (after Bloomsday, National Sauntering Day, National Old-Time Fiddler's Week, 6/22 and the NBA Draft) is ruined by my fears of swine and pirate flu, today is the most topsy-turvy NHS Day in recent memory, to be sure. Like right up there with that unforgetabble NHS Day in 1876 when Georgie Custer and his boys were upset by Sitting Bull at Little Big Horn.

How, you ask, is this the craziest National Handshake Day (which is not to be confused with World Handshake Day observed separately)?

First of all, we all awoke in a world where the US Men's National Soccer Team had toppled top-ranked Spain, 2-0, in the semifinals of the Confederation Cup in South Africa. And they did it by outplaying a full-strength Spanish side. I followed the minute-by-minutes reports on SI.com and ESPN.com while at work but I was still surprised by quality of the US side when I watched a replay of the game late last night. From the opening whistle, Uncle Sam's boys were getting after the Spaniards. They closed down in all three thirds of the field and weren't giving an inch without a fight. And whenever Torres or Villa or Fabregras or Xavi (or any of the bold-type names in the Spanish lineup) managed to find an inch, the US came through in waves to keep them from taking a mile. The tenacity and optimism of the outfield players was backed by superb goaltending from Tim Howard and the US won convincingly. And by "convincingly" I mean that the held of an opponent that clearly was going all out for the win in the second half. Spain didn't roll over. The upset win ends Spain's record-setting 15-match winning streak and record-tying 35-match unbeaten run. Spain had not lost since 2006. The same year that the US finished last in it's group at the World Cup. This win isn't the Miracle on Ice. I know. But it's something.

Secondly, Shaq has reportedly been traded to the Cleveland Cavaliers.

Thirdly, Jamal Crawford has reportedly been traded to the Atlanta Hawks.

Fourthly, the Knicks may close the day having traded for Darko Milic.

Fifthly, the NBA Draft takes place tonight at Madison Square Garden.

Sixthly, Johan Santana and Chris Carpenter square off in a matinee at Citi Field.

Seventhly, Farrah Fawcett died.

This Is Your Life

“Most people think life sucks, and then you die. Not me. I beg to differ. I think life sucks, then you get cancer, then your dog dies, your wife leaves you, the cancer goes into remission, you get a new dog, you get remarried, you owe ten million dollars in medical bills but you work hard for thirty-five years and you pay it back and then -- one day -- you have a massive stroke, your whole right side is paralyzed, you have to limp along the streets and speak out of the left side of your mouth and drool but you go into rehabilitation and regain the power to walk and the power to talk and then -- one day -- you step off a curb at Sixty-seventh Street, and BANG you get hit by a city bus and then you die. Maybe.”-Dennis Leary

What Leary forgot was this error is committed by a player on your favorite team somewhere between your divorce and the death of your second dog.

J. J. Putz Has E.D.

Mets Set-Up Man Has Eighth Inning Dysfunction

Watching any sporting event on cable means sitting through a seemingly endless number of advertisements for sexual enhancers and pills to make older men stop urinating all the time. Or is it medicines so that they can urinate whenever they want to? I'm not sure. Either way, watching a sporting event is a virtual priapism of awkward pharmaceutical pitches. It's uncomfortable in certain company and it seems to last about four hours.

But being bombarded with such commercials did help me diagnose Mets set-up man J.J. Putz with a form of ED. And, I don't mean erectile dysfunction. Because that is apparently easy to cure. Provided you don't mind nosebleeds, loss of vision, restless leg syndrome, ear-wax buildup and sudden and uncontrollable body hair loss. What Putz has is eighth-inning dysfunction. He can't seem to get it up unless it's the ninth inning and a save situation. And, by "it" I mean his velocity.

Last night, Putz entered the game in the eighth inning. The Mets led the Pirates, 5-3, when he came in from the bullpen. By the time the 6-5 redhead trudged towards the dugout, the Mets were trailing, 8-5. Putz allowed an inherited runner to score and then saw another four cross home plate. It was his fourth loss of the season.

Before arriving in Queens during the offseason, Putz was the closer for the Seattle Mariners. In 2007, he saved 40 games for the Mariners and was an All-Star. In his three seasons as the first-choice closer in the Emerald City (which included an injury-marred 2008), Putz had an ERA of 2.34. In the three seasons before that when he was not the ninth-inning beverage of choice, Putz managed a 4.19 ERA. Pitching in the ninth inning this year, Putz is holding batters to a .063 batting average. Not too shabby. In the eighth inning, though, the former All-Star closer is allowing hitters to rake at a .294 clip. That's not good. Especially since the Mets brought him to New York to pitch in the eighth inning ahead of Francisco Rodriguez.

I would say it's pretty clear that this guy has ED. It happens to lots of relievers, I'm sure. According to Metsblog, Putz spent time before last night's debacle working on his delivery and trying to fine tune his mechanics. Because he's basically admitted the other day on WFAN that he's having a hard time performing in the eighth:

“I’m still trying to get used to pitching in the eighth inning, and find some adrenaline, because it’s not like pitching in the ninth, I’ll tell you that… It’s a weird mentality… You just don’t have that heart-pounding sensation, I think that’s where those two-or-three miles-per-hour are.”

Someone should tell him that they've got medicine for this.

Monday Mudita

The NBA Playoffs: Where Tragedy Happens

“Show Me a Hero And I’ll Write You A Tragedy”
-F. Scott Fitzgerald

There are 30 franchises in the NBA, 30 in the Major Leagues, 30 in the NHL and 32 teams playing in the NFL. That gives us 122 professional sports teams in this country’s four major sports. Each team has proud veteran players, talented young prospects, struggling journeymen and a legion of loyal fans. Each organization has one goal: a championship. 118 of those teams have failed or will fail in 2009. They will not win a championship. Some will lose small battles with such regularity that their larger failure — not winning a title — will mostly go unnoticed. Others will achieve many miniature milestones and seem perilously close to glory before coming up short. Sort of like the 18-1 Patriots in 2008. Or the Dallas Mavericks in 2007, who steamrolled through the regular season only to be shocked by the Golden State Warriors in the opening round of the playoffs.

Each brand of inadequacy tells a different story and falls into a different genre. The rollicking journey of the Matt Millen-era Detroit Lions is a farce. The heartwarming account of the Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling-led 2001 Arizona Diamondbacks is a romantic comedy. And the taught tale of near misses and squandered opportunity of the 1990s New York Knicks is a tragedy.
Hall of Fame center Patrick Ewing is one of the 50 greatest players to tread the boards in an NBA game. He owns nearly every career record in Knicks franchise history. He has two gold medals and an NCAA championship. He has a degree from Georgetown University. He has amassed millions of dollars playing a game that he didn’t learn until middle school. Yet, he is considered a failure by some.

Many retired sports heroes find themselves draped in melancholy rather than championship banners. Their greatest victories always in semifinals and quarterfinal rounds and informed by the season-ending loss lurking just over the horizon. Their defining moments are defeats. These men are tragic figures. Their prodigious talents and Herculean efforts undone by their own incurable flaws or by circumstances that were beyond their control. Or by John Starks’s scene-stealing 2-or-18 monologue in Game 7 of the 1994 NBA Finals. Increasingly encased in ice due to injury and enveloped by a reputation as a guy who couldn’t win the big game, Ewing’s suffering was performed nightly at Madison Square Garden for 15 years. His suffering was for our sake. It was meant to give us pleasure, even though we often ended up suffering right alongside the Big Fella.

For Aristotle, a tragedy had to be concerned with the deeds of great men. Greek tragedies featured kings and persons of divine or royal heritage. It was believed that only the suffering of someone so great could bring catharsis to a mass audience. Some modern tragedians attempted to place the common man at the center of a tragedy. In today’s royal-less world, though, professional athletes are commoners become kings. Perhaps most notably, the 24-year-old Adonis from Akron dubbed "King James" of the Cleveland Cavaliers.

The dramas of professional athletes — televised by ESPN, TNT and allegedly VS with a pomp and circumstance befitting monarchs — compose today’s tragic canon. The elegiac accountings of the Boston Red Sox pre-2004 championship drought have replaced King Lear for two generations of Americans as the standard for woe. Entire cities rise and fall with their respective sports franchises just as they once did with their potentates. Local economies are propped up by playoff runs and civic pride is buoyed by banners in the rafters. To watch the fans celebrating the Cavs Game 5 victory at Quicken Loans Arena on Thursday night in Cleveland was surely to witness a mass catharsis. Those Midwesterners were purified by what the Lebronaliers accomplished last night in Cleveland. And, just as completely, they will be devastated if their team is eliminated by the Orlando Magic in Game 6 or 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals. The feelings of sorrow and angst would be extreme in Cuyahoga County. Past defeats would mingle with future ones in the minds of many.

Likewise, a season-ending defeat for any of the other three teams still competing for the NBA championship would be just as devastating. For the first time in a long time, each of the semifinalists for the Larry O’Brien trophy has a legitimate claim to being the Association's top team. There will be no moral victories this season. No one is happy just to be here. There will be just one happy ending. Three teams and three cities will feel the weight of this loss as heavily as Atlas feels the weight of this world on his shoulders. Television cameras will beam pictures of three sets of tearful fans and despondent hoopsters around the country. Loss will be felt keenly by three cities, who will incorporate the defeats into their self images. It will become a part of who they are. It will become a part of the story that they tell about their lives and the life of their city.

With this in mind, I have paired the Cavaliers, Magic, the Los Angeles Lakers and the Denver Nuggets with the piece of tragic literature that best exemplifies the way they are likely to lose and the particular way in which they got to this point. Check back over the next few days as I break down, character by player, the ways in which each of these teams is an uncanny simulacrum for these tragic tales.*

The Cleveland Cavaliers
Death of a Salesman, by Arthur Miller









The Orlando Magic
Oedipus Rex, by Sophocles





The Los Angeles Lakers
Hamlet, by William Shakespeare








The Denver Nuggets
Cyrano de Bergerac, by Edmond Rostand


*Yes, I know that there is an argument to make that the final scene of Cyrano keeps it from being a tragedy. I disagree. Cyrano never got the girl. He never got over his feelings of inadequacy and never saw himself for the swashbuckling ladies’ man that he could have been. Even if Roxanne puts together the pieces, it is only after Cyrano is nearly dead and after dusk has fallen - meaning that she couldn't see his face. It is sad. And a tragedy. For the sake of the Nuggets write-up you’re just going to have to go along with me. Or not.

Eight is the Second Magic Number

Knicks Land Eighth Pick in 2009 NBA Draft

In nuclear physics - the field of physics that studies the building blocks and interaction of atomic nuclei - the number 8 is considered the second magic number. Contradicting the doctrine of De La Soul, the first magic number is 2 as opposed to 3. A number is considered magical if it denotes an amount of nucleons (either protons or neutrons) that are arranged into complete shells within the atomic nucleus. As of 2007, the numbers most widely considered magical were 2, 8, 20, 28, 50, 82 and 126.

Somewhere in the wilds of Secaucus, N.J., in a room dubbed the "NBA Entertainment Studio," it was determined through the bouncing of ping pong balls that the New York Knicks will select eighth in the 2009 NBA draft. This is the slot in the draft order that the Knicks were most likely to get. Mathematically. Given that they had the eighth-worst record in the NBA last season. And, since math and physics are like cousins, I think, then it is possible that there is something positive (not in an electrical charge sense, obviously) about having such a magical spot in the order. Perhaps it will work out.

ESPN.com's Chad Ford has the Knicks selecting Davidson combo guard Stephen Curry, even though he ranks UCLA point guard Jrue Holiday as the eighth best player available. All the talk about town for months has been about Curry. Now is when everything gets interesting.

Monday Mudita

File Under: Stories Surprisingly Not About 1986 Mets