Rockets Daily: Tuesday, September 14th, 2010

  • When Yao Ming makes the call, stars answer. Or NBA players do, anyway. Yao and a band of NBA outcasts (the Kid, Brandon Jennings; the Midget, Aaron Brooks; the Asian-American, Jeremy Lin) found their way to Taipei for a stop on the Yao Ming Foundation tour. Because this seems like it’s begging to be made into the greatest “on tour” documentary ever, Anton Trees (for True Hoopdelves into this motley crew’s misadventures in Taiwan, which include blowing kisses to fans and dancing in between timeouts. Though Trees’ awe at Yao’s size may not be anything particularly groundbreaking (though it is eloquent; “Yao… is wide, long, high, everything; his shoulders look like struts on a roof, his legs like the base of a building. It’s a wonder he can walk, let alone play basketball at the highest level”), its his awe of Yao’s other kind of stature that gives the reader a real idea of what Yao Ming means to certain places in the world and basketball in general: “The pre-game entertainment consists of a large, pretty girl singing Mariah Carey’s “Hero,” before two screeching presenters welcome Yao to the court. As he walks out, the crowd gets all warm and gooey, like they’re seeing a beloved uncle for the first time in years. There is no cynicism when it comes to Yao, no cruel barbs screamed out, no insults. The crowd just loves him, without reservation. It seems tall poppies remain unlopped here.”
  • What a fantastic guy Brad Miller appears to be. Trey Kirby’s hero (whose myriad offensive talents have been adequately recorded here by his biggest fan) hosted his annual golf tournament to benefit the Big Brother, Big Sister program (of which Miller was a part, getting his own Big Brother in 1985) this weekend and answered some questions afterwards, and when presented with awkward semi-inquiries and questions about completely unrelated basketball news, he amiably responds with an earnestness that cannot be faked in the face of such inanity. Even when a reporter loses the audio for a question about the Rockets and asks him to reiterate his comments several minutes later, Miller makes a half-joke and gives the man his quote. I think it’s safe to say that after a year of gigantic Eurotrash, the back-up center position of the Houston Rockets has regained its prestige.
  • The Miami Heat will probably be very good, but it will definitely be very weird. In the recent arguments about positions in basketball and the NBA in particular, much has come of the concept that certain types aren’t necessarily needed to succeed as much as certain skills, an idea the Heat, who have two men who can do almost everything (and exceedingly well), embrace with open arms. On cue, Tom Ziller has brought back the Z-Graph to show exactly how versatile some Heat lineups could be, theoretically at least. If Wade and James’ shot blocking abilities can actually wreak real interior havoc, the NBA may be drawing a blank as far as counter-moves to these guys go.
  • In further “Oh my God, Miami is going to dominate us all” news, Erick Dampier predictably has his eyes dead set on taking his talent(s?) to South Beach when he is bought out of his contract by whichever team decides taking the money he is to be paid this year is better than having talent (though lots of teams would love to have the ability to cut the maligned large man). To some, this will mean nothing, but I have a less-than-sneaking-suspicion that this will be the deal that puts the Heat over the top (yes, I know that I just wrote that sentence). Dampier cannot provide that much at 35, but rebounding and post defense are just about the only two things he brings to the table. The Heat desperately need both skills, and with them, Miami’s a likely champion (of the East, as the Lakers continue to exist).
  • Jonathan Feigen wants you to know two things: he works out at the Young Men’s Christian Association, and people want to know if Carmelo Anthony will end up a Houston Rocket. He talks about how Melo has reinvigorated this city’s interest, as sad as that flitter of opportunity and its effects might be. This team seems to be finding out its identity, though, and Feigen agrees that while waiting in the shadows of trade rumors may be a bad idea, making a splash, even a dangerous one, seems to be the best option: “If the YMCA test is to be believed, the Anthony rumors distract from progress. Assuming there will be no Pau Gasol to the Lakers steal, a trade for Anthony would be a gamble, assuring nothing. The Rockets are in a position in which they need to take a chance if it comes along. But for now, they can be eager to see how the current roster looks, and if they have enough to change the conversations at the Y.”
  • While this year’s World Championships may have created some lasting impressions for players in and out of the L alike (including Houston’s own “winner”, whose contract still puts off even Chris Mannix), for one fan, the USA’s performance left the biggest, and most disappointing, impression of all. Bethelem Shoals goes in on this team and Coach Mike Krzyzewski’s seeming lack of offensive strategy on FREEDARKO: “Really though, I just hate this team. Hate, hate, hate this team. Anyone who thinks Durant will walk unmolested into this same role next season, or on the 2012 team, is guilty of the kin of wishful thinking—or is it cynical—that’s threatening to turn his name into an basketball adjective completely separate from on-court performance. The fact that Durant has taken on such a central role, from the second possession changes until someone—usually him—gets or denies the bucket, shows you what a headless, faceless, aberration of a team this is.” Only Tim Thomas can express the level of vitriol in that one.
  • Maybe it’s because I was a kid who loved hip-hop and basketball equally while trying to dribble a kid’s-size ball through my chubby legs (my imaginary defender’s imaginary ankles were definitely broken), but the thought of Allen Iverson going to China seems so much sadder than did Stephon Marbury’s departure. He was the face of a generation, but his more realistic fans anticipated a steep decline after the years of psychical abuse and bad playmaking caught up with the little giant. Still, this fall from grace is more than disheartening; it feels like a whole nation’s childhood of wonderment never even happened. You still look like Soul on Ice to me, though, AI.

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