The concept of loyalty can tend to be a tricky one in most aspects of life, and its relationship to sports seems similarly muddy. Asking for a team or an athlete to feel something about the other beyond the level of general niceties and commitment to cooperation probably remains impossible as both parties look out, quite reasonably, for their respective self-interests. This play was recently performed on just about the biggest stage ever as LeBron James found himself almost universally derided for either his callous approach to cutting ties with his former “home” team or the simple act of leaving in the first place, causing an entire nation to consider how fidelity should work in regards to professional sports.
While too much of that discussion became bogged down in the specifics of LeBron’s ridiculously ostentatious exit, the floodgates of discussion were opened and left us all unsure of why the departures of contract workers stung as badly as those of significant others. In those relationships, though, there are more amenable breakups sometimes in which both parties know the split will do both some good, provide some closure and maybe give each a chance to be healthy on his or her own. While free agency rarely gives teams chances to make these kinds of sweet gestures, the trade still allows such moves to happen, which is where we come to the cases of Steve Nash and the aforementioned all-world defender and long-time Houston Rocket.
Last night as the ex-All-Star power forward chanted “FREE STEVE NASH!” over “highlights” of Phoenix’s blowout loss to the Nuggets, Chris Webber got his righteous indignation on and demanded (half-jokingly, I assume. I don’t want to make C-Webb seem mad or, well, mad) Steve Nash be shipped out of Phoenix out of respect for what the magical little Canadian had done for the franchise; the not-actually-proposed deal would be expected to place him on a contender, a team where the two-time-MVP could go chase a ring like so many all-time greats before him had. While the logistics of this don’t really work (as the always-astute Dan Devine noted earlier on Ball Don’t Lie, the market for a game-changing point guard on a team looking to win now is surprisingly small, if not non-existent), Webber’s intimation that Nash deserves better from the Suns brings up an interesting way to view the idea of loyalty, specifically through breaking off a relationship that seems cancerous to at least one of the involved parties.
The argument that Nash doesn’t make the Suns better on a nightly basis can’t be made, and a trade that sent him out of Arizona likely would not make the team immediately better (though a deal would theoretically set the Suns up much better than they already are for the rebuilding process); in this way, it’s easy to see why Suns fans would recoil at the idea of sending the angular, constantly broken face of the franchise, not even taking into account how such a move might affect the psyche of a fanbase watching its former perennial contender wither away already.
Still, if any NBA organization has been revived and felt the benevolent touch of any one individual, it has been the Phoenix Suns, a team that gave all hoops fans such fun for so many years thanks to that miserably defending, fleet-of-foot-mind-and-wit point god whose contract everyone mocked just seven years ago. In other words, if any team “owes it” to a guy, it’s probably this one. But does that idea really exist in the modern world of sports? Should a team feel guilty for under-performing, and does dealing a player from his beloved adopted home actually make it up to him? Nash seems like one of the few guys in the league keenly aware that his wonderful contributions to this wonderful game will not be forgotten because of an absence of rings (or there would a lot more forgotten Suns than just he), but I also don’t imagine that Nash wants to retire ringless anymore than any other all-timer, making his predicament one that deserves both sympathy and scrutiny.
Perhaps the scale of Shane Battier’s current situation as a Rocket looks to be much smaller than that of Nash, but in that microcosm, Battier represents something similar to Houston: a man that helped give a team an identity, a face even without the mugs paid much better than he is showing up very often on an actual NBA court. Unlike Nash, Battier has not exactly gotten the Mandela/Lil Wayne treatment from the press, and it’s doubtful he’d want it or ever allow the idea that he wanted out released publicly. Still, Shane finds himself stuck on a team not sure where its headed or what his place on it will be just as he also enters the final year of his contract.
Many have compared Battier to Bruce Bowen, the kind of dependable “glue guy” (ugh, shoot me in the face with a sportswriter cliche ray gun) that can play stellar defense and drain open shots in any situation, and the juxtaposition seems apt. As most of the readers of this know, Bowen won himself a glut of titles in San Antonio doing just those things, and the idea of Battier doing the same doesn’t appear to be all that unrealistic. Somebody will need to guard the LeBrons and Kobes of the world come April and May, and Battier’s done that job quite well throughout his career, but as the captain and embodiment of all things Rocket, Battier feels as indispensable as anyone on the current collection of role players in Houston.
Do Les Alexander or Daryl Morey owe Battier a chance to go make good somewhere, to go take home the hardware that never came in Houston? Probably not. As mentioned more than once by me, that concept of loyalty really can’t mean all that much in a world where owners are trying to destroy the very notion of the guaranteed contract and players look to find greener pastures on a seemingly daily basis. But for those still stuck on the idea that franchises and athletes live by rules unlike the rest of the world, bound to each other’s best interests by the great moral bastion that is sports, Battier represents all that was good about the Rockets’ recent years and may deserve more than uncertainty and lots of losing in the twilight years of his career.
