- The world as we knew it just fourteen hours ago will never again be the same. Ron Artest (of ‘Malice at the Palace’ infamy) won the LA Lakers the NBA championship. It still has not completely sunk in. First, let me preemptively preface by saying that no, this outcome does not bear Rockets regret. Of this, I can convey complete assurance. But this was a script that could never have been written, almost as bizarre as the forward himself. Artest carried the Lakers through long stretches, imposing his will upon the game, and sealing it with an open ‘3’. A shout-out to his shrink and one of the most raw post-game pressers in recent memory capped off the most surreal viewing experience in playoff history. I don’t even really remember what I saw, and only recall that when he hit the ‘3’ to win it, I could only shake my head in disbelief over the absurdity – of course – it had to end this way. How else could we be forced to disavow every shred of normality and sense in the world but with an Artest Game 7 epic? In an evolving game where 7 foot men handle like guards and 6 footers rebound amongst the trees, this was just how it had to be. We’ve officially cemented the post-modern stage. We know nothing, there is no absolute truth and the mercurial Ron Artest has won the title for the LA Lakers. This was the only way.
- You can’t help but feel great for Artest who is just a genuinely good person despite his eccentricities. He’s strange, yes, but good-natured, and one of the most misunderstood and complex characters in sports history. He’s not Kenyon Martin, which I think isn’t fully grasped, and, unless Latrell Sprewell is closing in on curing cancer and I just haven’t heard about it, this story of eventual redemption can’t quite be rivaled.
- While I know it will fall on deaf ears, this game really underscores the absurd calculus through which we measure greatness. On a night when he was more John Starks than Michael Jordan, to the victor have gone the spoils, and Kobe Bryant has once more been thrust into discussions the nature of which there lies no justification for his inclusion. His greatness is unquestionable and his place in history is acknowledged, but few have been the beneficiary of such favorable circumstances and last night drove that point home with the guard’s teammates carrying him to the title. It only makes matters more amusing that his performance on the boards, while certainly impressive, is being trumpeted by certain circles as having fueled the Lakers victory and as sufficient recompense for his abysmal shooting from the floor. We saw last night that it is the better team that claims the throne, a realization of which should give end to the reductionism embedded in our culture. Instead, five titles bestow limitless plaudits, regardless of the manner through which they are won. I appreciate Bryant’s greatness and pursuit of perfection, but when 6-24 gives birth to the discussions which are taking and will take place, our collective intelligences should feel insulted.
- This was a night for the ages, Game 7, one event to decide the outcome of a season’s worth of battles and add to or cripple team and individual legacies. For all that has been said of its lack of aesthetics, this was beautiful basketball, the way the game should be played, with larger-than-life warriors colliding in the paint with only their own fortitude as savior. From the start, whistles were swallowed, and the hardwood became the war zone which could only be fitting for stakes at these levels. One almost expected to see Anthony Mason and Charles Oakley emerge from the tunnel to, donning their old threads, enter for a few choice blows in this slug-fest, the likes for which they were made. Watching on television, one can’t quite truly conceptualize the intensity at which that game was played. The sheer exhaustion and even panic was painfully evident. It was one of those rare circumstances when you see the very best at any craft caged into a corner and left with no choice but to fend for survival. Consider: these were the two best collections of talent in the world at this sport and we just witnessed 48 minutes where each possession was, in and of itself, deemed a war and approached accordingly. This was possibly the greatest compilation of talent in the modern era featuring a top-10 all-time legend pitted against, when healthy, the greatest statistical defense in league history, featuring the greatest team defender since Bill Russell, locked together in a room with no key. If you’re just 25, you may not ever again see a basketball game played at that level of intensity.
- The brief moment when Paul Pierce and Ron Artest became entangled, a scowl overcoming the former’s visage just encapsulated the essence of that entire atmosphere. It had to happen. And the three consecutive 3’s the two teams traded, contrasted against the backdrop of the game’s entirety felt like a revolver had been fired in the room. You couldn’t quite exhale.
- Rasheed Wallace could be finished, as reported by Doc Rivers, and it should be noted that the veteran showed up in a big way when he was needed most. When given opportunity, he showed the length and poise in the post that made him one of the game’s best power forwards during his prime. Yet mysteriously, despite his successes last night against Laker single coverage, he was rarely used. If due to his own reluctance, it would be an ironic example of why, for someone of his abilities, his potential went largely unfulfilled.
- One could not help but wield mixed feelings watching Kevin Garnett last night. ‘The Big Ticket’ has become something of a pariah in recent years, sporting a faux bravado not fitting to the public taste. But in the biggest game of his brilliant career, one could not help but feel a certain pain as he labored with each movement, and a certain surprise over one’s own surprise upon each successful endeavor. Running the floor, protecting the hoop against the Laker 7 footers, and facing up Gasol, he showed the vestiges of what made him this generation’s Bill Russell. That Kevin Garnett we knew, loved, yet came to hate is gone.
- And what now of Ray Allen, the game’s greatest-ever shooter coming up so short on the game’s greatest stage? To watch Allen’s textbook form conjures immediate vision of what must have been countless nights in his empty driveway, perfecting his touch in wait for these very moments. That itself, in his coming up so painfully short, is what made last night, and this series, irony at its most tragic.
- Even after the confetti clears, building to the tragedy is the sudden realization that these were and are two teams headed in different paths. LA, the victor, begins the path to successes which are yet to come, while Boston was a wounded animal on its last legs, summoning every last ounce of vitality for one last claim to glory. If there were true justice, Boston would have prevailed but it was not to be. For the Lakers, decisions loom concerning Bynum, but as last summer’s “swap” of Ariza for Artest proved, complementary players can be revolved around the game’s best duo. For the Celtics begins the ugly descent into “denial” as delusions delay the inevitable and fading stars are retained in beliefs of yesteryear’s perpetuity.
- Garnett’s rapid decline makes way for the relevant question concerning Kobe Bryant’s future. It is odd that so many assume, almost matter-of-factly, that he will surely continue on at this level until 36, citing the career path of Michael Jordan. It’s not understood that it’s not age but rather mileage which is the determinant for a player’s career lifespan. Michael did not come into the league at 18, unlike Bryant, and he took two years off from the hardwood, circumstances which allowed him to save his knees for later years. To date, almost every high school-to-NBAer has teetered out by age 30 and had his body completely fail him, from Tracy McGrady, to Jermaine O’Neal, to Kevin Garnett. Despite the oblivion of the ‘5 ring reductionists’, all of Bryant’s peripheral statistics have declined in recent years, and he’s beginning the descent from his perch. I think he still has another year at this level, but it’s foolish to just assume 36 as the logical stopping point and (reductively and somehow assumptively) tack on 5 more rings.
- Jeff Van Gundy had perhaps the call of the 2009-2010 season when, after being asked what the Celtics needed as their offense sputtered late in the fourth, he ominously replied, “they need Larry Bird.”
- The 2010 NBA Draft will be held on June 24th. The Houston Rockets select 14th.
LA Lakers capture NBA title; On Ron Artest post-modern surrealism and Kobe Bryant, Kevin Garnett legacy
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