I, like many of our readers, have been quite geeked about Mr. Huq’s recent forays into the locker rooms, allowing our slightly heady, hushed questions into the fray with the rest of the post-game platitudes. There’s been the excitement of seeing players not often seen interviewed speak up (or in Terence Williams’ case, not speak at all), the questions with just a hint of Rahat’s more subversive side and the general fun that’s associated with, “Hey, I know that dude!”
One of the batches of interviews posted here a few weeks ago, though, has really gotten stuck in my craw. After talks with Chuck Hayes (who just lives and breathes in quotables), the diplomatic Kyle Lowry, a frustrated Jordan Hill and the always fantastic Shane Battier, Luis Scola, the Divine Argentine himself, talked to Rahat about the difference between playing defense with and without Yao Ming (skip to 5:25 in the video):
“Yao happened a long time ago.” The emptiness in Scola’s voice when making that statement and his having to come to grips, as he has to every time he has to come to the center of the court for a tipoff that a much larger man should be handling, with the absence of his best chance at winning cannot be overlooked. As much hand-wringing has gone on about the terrible position that Yao’s body has put the large man in and the gushing over the loss of the superstar’s prime years, the fact that a player as accomplished and skilled as Scola is watching his own prime waste away after exhibiting such promise just two years ago exemplifies exactly the level of strife dealt with by the few Rockets players unlucky enough to stick it out through this entire ordeal.When considering the impact of a major injury to a team’s morale, analysts often refer to demoralization in a micro-sense, worried what said loss could do to a team’s playoff chances or hopes to resign a free agent. Rarely do we think that as one man’s career goes, so can another’s; that is the peculiar damnation that Scola faces.
In recent years, Rockets followers have proudly dangled the deal that brought Houston Scola’s rights for those of “Kill Bill” Vassilis Spanoulis and Jackie Butler over the heads of the blessed Spurs fans as a sign that, sometimes, we can come out on top too. As such, the Rockets fans have taken to Scola just as kindly, thinking of the South American big man as the consummate Rocket, a player whose diligence and craft more than make up for his lack of size and athleticism. In return for his efforts, game nights at Toyota Center see their fair share of grown men in Scola wigs, and the big man even gets the grand finale in the glamorized player intros for a team without a true star (note: Kevin Martin’s numbers are those of a star’s, but no one would characterize the thin one as a de facto leader). Still, after games like Wednesday’s sputtering loss to the Philadelphia 76ers, Luis Scola has to occasionally wonder, while entering that Rockets charter plane with his ragtag squad of teammates wonder, what if?
Just as Yao loomed above and beyond Scola’s shoulders, providing the security blanket that 7’6″ of person ready to change anything resembling a shot behind one can, so would Tim Duncan have offered the comfort of one of the game’s greatest defenders of all-time to protect the rim and Scola’s defensive efficiency numbers. With Duncan and Scola both able to spread the defense and attack an overmatched defender having to deal with one of the best post players in the game regardless of which Spur he was guarding, the offense could produce mismatches where never thought possible, as well as likely putting hundreds of opposing teams in foul trouble before Sean Elliott could even say anything annoying. This neglects to even take into account the obvious chemistry that would be present between Scola and his compatriot Manu Ginobili, two of the league’s more inventive players as is. Imagine the beautiful devastation these two offensive polymaths could create if given the chance to work together on the screen-and-roll. As the Spurs roll to the league’s only single-digit-loss record, one can’t help but think of all of the enticing possibilities that Scola in silver and black could provide.
Earlier this year, as Scola swallowed his competition whole at the World Championships in Turkey by posting a tournament-leading 27.1 PPG, many a Spurs fan lamented the trade that sent the swarthy hero to the Bayou. Awkwardly placed in a position unfamiliar to them over the last decade (of incessant winning), many of the San Antonio loyal wondered if Brazilian rookie Tiago Splitter could ever hope to produce in the NBA as capably as Scola has for Rick Adelman in the last four years. While that may never happen and Scola may always have bragging rights with his fellow South American in the way of numbers posted (and that chunky contract that Scola admittedly signed himself this offseason), Splitter may have his own trump card after the Spurs’ current year in the form of a Finals berth or championship ring. Maybe Luis won’t care when his caveman locks start going grey about such frivolities, but he can’t help but wonder what could have been had R.C. Buford been a little more patient with the Divine Argentine.
Jacob Mustafa reads and watches an obscene amount of NBA material because the “I Love This Game!” campaign really worked on the easily excited, chubby 10-year-old version of him. Since, Mr. Mustafa tutors children in the ways of the SAT, eats too much fried tofu and makes his friends uncomfortable by awkwardly using hip-hop vernacular. Also, he is a regular contributor to Red94.
