The NBA's Culture Wars, Part 2

While watching the NBA playoffs, I have been intrigued by the number of cultural issues that are being played out on the basketball court. I'm not generally given to over-the-top theorizing, but I feel the need to gradually record some of the observations I've made while watching this year's match-ups. The first part can be found here.

With the recent conclusion of the Suns-Spurs series, the Western Conference continues to evoke the cultural battles of basketball's yesteryear, albeit with a more modern and, in some ways, more subtle twist.

The differences here are less about race (which was so prevalent in the Warriors-Jazz series) than they are about differing opinions on the way basketball is "meant" to be played. And that's a cultural minefield all its own.

Phoenix
At the beginning of the series, I thought that the Suns were the closest thing that we've seen to the "Showtime" Lakers of the 1980s in the 21st century, perhaps with the exception of the Shaq/Kobe Lakers themselves. After seeing Steve Nash cut underneath the basket approximately five hundred times in Games 5 and 6, his passes begging to be picked off more than Eli Manning's, I'm not so sure about that assessment. The fact remains that, most of the time, the Suns were a multi-dimensional team with the most talented starting five in the NBA--athletic, graceful, and poetic.

Like the Warriors, the Suns play a more playground-style game. But Phoenix is truly distinct because of its roster. The Suns are truly the NBA's first "cosmopolitan" team. In fact, it's hard to imagine that this group of players isn't playing in either LA or New York. They've got a French power forward (Boris Diaw), a Brazilian sixth man (Leandro Barbosa), an old-fashioned grinder (Raja Bell, a former Sixer), and a member of the "skipping college" generation (Amare Stoudamire), when you could still do that in the NBA.

And then there's the aforementioned Nash, a Canadian and a two-time NBA MVP. It's impossible to think of the Suns without thinking of Nash nowadays, as he is not only the face of the team but also the de facto face of the entire league--which is revealing in terms of the NBA's business plan, as Nash is the highest-profile white player in the game. Yet Nash's game places his playmaking style and panache front and center, as opposed to the methodical, textbook style of play of his former running mate, Dirk Nowitzki. He's practically the anti-Bird.

All this makes the Suns something very unusual in the basketball world: a bona-fide subversive team in a cultural sense, a roundball rainbow coalition that is the champion of hipster b-ball fans across the world.

San Antonio
Approximately 980 miles from the epicenter of the NBA trendiness is a team that never seems to change: the San Antonio Spurs. This is most certainly your father's NBA team. With the exception of actual Spurs fans, they play a style of basketball celebrated by virtually nobody. Compared to some of the more transition-oriented teams, they are plodding, methodical, and seemingly joyless. Yet this approach is not without successful results. The Spurs are the picture of consistency to a maddening degree--they've only missed the playoffs four times in their 30-year NBA history. Tim Duncan is as much a staple of May sweeps as "super-sized" NBC sitcoms.

The presence of Duncan also has a lot to do with the way the Spurs are defined culturally. Duncan is one of the least expressive players in the league today. He's so quiet and workmanlike, you forget that he's won two MVP awards and could easily have a couple more. But it's hard to expect excitement from somebody nicknamed "The Big Fundamental."

Surprisingly, Duncan's supporting cast also resembles the cultural cornucopia that surrounds Nash in Phoenix, including an Argentinean (Manu Ginobli), a Frenchman (Tony Parker), and arguably the former "highest profile white player" in Brent Barry. They've also got plenty of other recognizable stars and semi-stars that have achieved varying degrees of success: Michael Finley, Robert Horry, and the like. So why doesn't America love the Spurs too?

The simple answer is that San Antonio is a little bit too familiar: bland, safe, and stale. It's gotten to the point where a recent ESPN front page story claimed that LeBron James was the only "superstar" left in this year's playoffs, presumably considering Duncan the antithesis of NBA cool. And, to a point, that's true. It's no secret that NBA Commissioner David Stern is making overtures to capture a more "mainstream" (read: conservative) audience--remember the dress code?

Well, the Spurs are the poster team for this transformation. Everything about them indicates this, from Manu cutting his hair and developing a mid-scalp bald spot like a middle-aged stockbroker to a system that squanders Parker's incredible speed (he could be the best point guard in the league; we just haven't been able to see it).

The Series
Not since Breaking Away had there been a clearer example of "the townies versus the gownies" like the first few games of Suns-Spurs. The Suns ran the floor, the Spurs pounded it inside, and all was right with the world.

Then, in Game 4, a series of events occurred that irrevocably changed the momentum of the entire playoffs twice in the span of two minutes. Trailing two games to one on the road, the Suns produced an incredible 14-2 run in the last 120 seconds of the fourth quarter to even up the series. Phoenix played remarkable basketball in that final quarter--so remarkable, in fact, that it might just be the apex of the Nash Era. This is because in the waning seconds, with the Spurs intentionally making those clock-stopping fouls that turn so many games into a free throw-shooting contest, Horry literally body-checked Nash into the scorer's table.

This incident shifted the momentum of the series back the Spurs all on its own, as the NBA's current rules punish not only the perpetrators of flagrant fouls but also players who "leave the bench area" to protect their teammates in any potential scuffle. The subsequent suspension of two Suns who meandered a couple steps onto the court, Stoudamire and Diaw, affected Phoenix much more than the loss of the relatively expendable Horry affected the Spurs. As such, this has led many to question the fairness of the "bench rule" when a coach could potentially sacrifice a lesser player in the hopes of getting the other team's stars to react negatively.

The Nash-Horry imbroglio revealed even more about the NBA's culture wars. The Spurs played much of the series in the vein of the "Bad Boy" Pistons of the 1980s, a calculated mayhem designed to send the Suns over the edge. Yet, somehow, San Antonio's conservative image suffered little: a great hypocrisy considering the Spurs' outright thuggery and the Warriors' crimes of passion, which produced a series of commentators who admitted their "uneasiness" cheering for underdogs who also appeared to be "thuggish."

Lost in the shuffle is the justified (and some not-so-justified, but understandable) antipathy towards the Spurs. Basketball fans have been both robbed of the potential for more highly entertaining play and bamboozled into believing that this outcome was fair--that the Spurs are doing things the "right" way with boring and unsportsmanlike basketball, and that Daniel Stern's desire to broaden the NBA's fanbase to people like my mom (whose entitled opinion is that "all the writing on some players arms" is not something she wants to see) had nothing to do with our current Jazz-Spurs conference finals reality.

In the interest of full disclosure (as if it's not obvious by this point), I desperately wanted the Suns to win this series, if only because I'm sick of the Spurs and I have these delusions of grandeur about being a hipster. The Western Conference is dead to me now.

Pat Burrell 1, Subtlety 0

Although I don't pay attention to at-bat music very often, I couldn't help noticing what seems to be a recent development: Pat Burrell embracing the 1986 Peter Gabriel classic "Sledgehammer."

This is most likely a nod to his reputation as a beefcake power hitter who either drives it or strikes out looking, like a 21st century version of Greg Luzinski (right down to the kneeling lunge at the end of his swing). As "getting pumped-up, ballpark" music, it's kind of esoteric and annoyingly literal at the same time. Pat is a big fan of the '80s jams, though; I fully expect him to trot out onto the field holding a boombox over his head during the next rain delay. In fact, I think he might have done that when he heard Jason Michaels was traded.

But is that really all there is? If you look at the lyrics to the song, it's no secret that Gabriel's being a little, um, metaphorical in regards to the titular 'hammer. Between punking out Billy Wagner and this sly Freudian reference, Burrell could be a lot smarter than we all give him credit for. Or he's taking pre-emptive measures should Phillies marketing ever decide to publicly undermine his masculinity (sorry, Shane Victorino). "Pat the Bat," indeed.

And just for fun, here's the Gumby gone wrong music video for the song:



UPDATE 5/20/07: After a little research, I have found that Pat Burrell has not changed his at-bat music at all, rendering this post completely false. I apologize.

He's been using Don Henley's "Dirty Laundry" since the beginning of the season. But a quick scan of the lyrics--most notably the chorus "Kick 'em when they're up/Kick 'em when they're down"--and it is proven that Pat's choice of music still illustrates my point. He's basically expecting us as fans to interpret him as we would our junior high crushes handing us a mixtape.

IronPigs Are What's For Dinner

The IronPigs are striking the corporate sponsorship iron while it is hot, today announcing that they have an official sponsor for major league rehab assignments (Good Shepherd). That's right--the next time Pat Burrell sprains his ankle, he'll be shuttled to the Lehigh Valley in a sparkling chariot of health and virility.

At least that's my understanding. And if I'm wrong, then what's the point?

I've always enjoyed the minor leagues because of their willingness to try any and every crazy promotion even if it guarantees only a dozen more drunk assholes coming out to see a Tom Selleck look-alike contest. I am convinced that everything you see on reality TV has already been done in the minors.

Case in point: I went to the last Reading Phillies home game of the season a few years ago, and the pre-game promotion consisted of an honest-to-God helicopter hovering 40 feet above the diamond and dropping vouchers for next year's season tickets on the field. It looked like the fall of Saigon with all the swirling dust and human chaos.

I have the highest hopes for the IronPigs in terms of creative marketing, even though Triple A ball generally is the least insane of the minor leagues in terms of on-field wackiness. Their nickname alone conjures up several possibilities, one of which has been used by the hometown minor league hockey team of a certain reader:

Cummings said he attracted a sponsor for the mascot when he worked for a hockey team in Rockford, Ill., known as the IceHogs. That sponsor was the pork industry, meaning fans were treated to the sight of a giant hog skating around with a sign on its back: ''Pork -- The Other White Meat.''

Nothing says team spirit like encouraging people to eat your mascot. In the interest of cultural sensitivity, I think there should be a kosher version: Lehigh Valley IronLox Night, anyone? Mazel tov!

Everything (Almost) For Sale in Minor Leagues [The Morning Call]

The Brewers Are Who We Thought They Were

Colbert Richard Hamels retired 18 Brewers in a row last night and teased a perfect game until the 7th inning in addition to going 2-for-3 at the plate. In six out of his nine starts this year, he's given up three or fewer earned runs, and has yet to walk more than three batters in a game. I'd say that's ace material right there. I hope the Phillies brass enjoy paying him 400K/year while they still can.

Perhaps more importantly, the Phillies finally reached .500 for the first time this year. And it only took them a quarter of the season to do it! Achieving this milestone of mediocrity doesn't do justice to how well the team has played the last couple of weeks (though it does reveal just how terrible April was).

And not to burst anyone's bubble, but it seems that the events of the past week (going 5-1 against the Cubs and Brewers) have helped the Astros more than the Phillies. You're welcome, Houston.

The NBA's Culture Wars, Pt. 1

While watching the NBA playoffs, I have been intrigued by the number of cultural issues that are being played out on the basketball court. I'm not generally given to over-the-top theorizing, but I feel the need to gradually record some of the observations I've made while watching this year's match-ups.

Do you remember the days of Magic's Lakers and Bird's Celtics dueling each other in the NBA Playoffs? Then you clearly also remember the time professional basketball was a nice little proxy for America's ongoing race wars--which only intensified when Isiah's Pistons joined the fray later.

Well, I couldn't help but get a feeling of deja vu after watching the Utah Jazz finish off the Golden State Warriors last night to move on to the Western Conference finals.

Granted, this isn't so cut-and-dry as a so-called "blue collar" team with a preponderance of white stars against a flashy, urban "Showtime" team. Though race is certainly a consideration, the Jazz-Warriors series seemed to be more a about a clash of cultures. The players and coaches of each team, as well as their style of play, have reflected wildly differing worldviews throughout the series. Independently, this is not a big deal. The important thing, however, is how each team appears to also reflect the desires and expectations of their home cities, their fans, and, by extension, that segment of the greater American culture that they represent.

Golden State
The Warriors are something like a proto-"Showtime": entertaining and freewheeling, but not quite as polished. Their reckless abandon--quick transition baskets, all-or-nothing defense, and three-pointer after three-pointer--is immensely fun to watch. Their proclivity for flagrant fouls and in-game meltdowns is not, but it adds to Golden State's reputation as a team on the edge.

Personnel-wise, the Warriors are a team that wouldn't have even sniffed the playoffs if they hadn't pulled off a huge trade with the Indiana Pacers in January. This was a trade that either changed how the Warriors saw themselves or made them into the team they wanted to be all along. They added the troubled-but-talented Stephen Jackson and the somewhat disgruntled Al Harrington while subtracting softbodies Troy Murphy and Mike Dunleavy, Jr. (hard to believe he was a #3 overall draft pick once upon a time). This was a move fraught with racial undercurrents: the Warriors trading away two overrated white players to Indiana (where Larry Bird occupies a position in the front office) and getting two underrated black players in return.

Now, a caveat: race wasn't the major consideration here. After all, the teams also swapped four bench players, of which two more black players went to the Pacers and a white player to the Warriors. However, the significance of Golden State purging its starting five of all players who did not fit coach Don Nelson's run-and-gun playground style cannot be overstated. It was this style of play that allowed the Warriors to achieve a 23-20 record after the trade and, more importantly, helped with Golden State's A.I.S. (Asses in Seats) issues. The proverbial chickens had finally come home to roost in Oakland.

Utah
The Jazz, stylistically, are something quite different. Though they aren't particularly exceptional at anything, they can do a number of things quite well. They are, for lack of a better word, a "textbook" team. This is reminiscent of the Celtics teams of the 1980s, who got so much credit for "grinding it out" with superb fundamental play against supposedly more "athletic" opponents. I hesitate to fully extend this analogy, though, since the Jazz seem quite versatile and able to adapt to several different styles of play. Also, the all-important presence of Carlos Boozer is still no Larry Legend. It's barely even Parish.

Anyway, long-tenured coach Jerry Sloan is famous for his "tough love" and comparatively conservative style (e.g. reluctance to play rookies for any meaningful amount of time). John Amaechi, when announcing that he was gay, also touched on what is either Sloan's disdain for aberration in his coaching system or his outright intolerance and bigotry, depending on your opinion.

Furthermore, the Jazz have been arguably most active in the pursuit of high-profile international players, as European cagers are closely associated with a more "fundamental" style of play. What results is another curious racial disparity, and one that looks like there was a little bit of effort behind it. During Game 1 of the Western Conference Semifinals, the Jazz at one point had Andrei Kirilenko (Russian), Gordan Giricek (Croatian), Mehmet Okur (Turkish), and Matt Harpring (white American) on the floor. In today's NBA, that is highly unusual. Hell, it would have been unusual 20 years ago. Paging Ted "White Heroes" Stepien? (Number six on this list)

The Series
Even before a single point was scored, you had a classic mismatch of styles, players, and everything else that figures into the outcome of an actual basketball game. However, you also had a huge difference in fanbases and public perception, which is what makes all of this so relevant in my eyes.

Golden State's fans were routinely lauded as the best in the NBA--passionate, knowledgeable, and eager to see their team finally make the playoffs. Their support mirrored a Warriors team that was beyond being "happy to be here" like a typical 8th-seeded team. For a team that hails from Oakland, the us-against-the-world mentality was fitting--seizing opportunities with a frenetic style of play because it might just disappear tomorrow. In the home of hyphy and high technology, the dotcom boom and urban decay, the Warriors perfectly captured the Bay Area zeitgeist. Somebody ought to help, but nobody's going to. You're on your own, baby.

Utah's fans were the butt of a lot of what I thought were a lot of inappropriate and unfair Mormon jokes...until I saw the home crowds. Without a doubt, the Jazz are a red state team. It was nice to see a little edge to the fans when they started making parodies of Golden State's "We Believe" t-shirts (the most annoying instance of sartorial conformity in the NBA, save for the cult-like impulses of white-clad Miami Heat fans). Nonetheless, fan conduct echoed the poise of consummate Jazz "good guy" Derek Fisher. Utah (both the fanbase and the team) has done pretty well for itself without bowing to social pressures and has carved a workable niche out of its thoroughly modern surroundings. No change is necessary, thank you very much.

The Jazz's triumph, then, is a disappointment for me. Though many found Golden State's underdog story compelling, I also felt they were more representative of basketball's place in American culture and just plain more fun to watch. Thuggish reputation aside, I was a definite Warriors partisan for the past week. Utah had skill but no style, Golden State had passion but no restraint. And never, one assumes, the twain shall meet for either team--or their fans.

Update: IronPigs Achieve Aesthetic Sanity

After commenting on the disturbing amount of orange in the original unveiling of the Lehigh Valley IronPigs logo (picture link broken; trust me, it was hideous), I'm happy to report things have changed for the better--even though the two word nickname is still a silly OneWord.

Check out the quality IronPigs swag:


Seeing as the shirt emphasizes that the team plays professional baseball (wink, wink), I'm glad to see they've also adopted a more professional color scheme that nicely incorporates the colors of the parent team. The full-blown uniform is still an unknown, though judging by the stuff they've got in their official store (already!) there's still some room for concern. Is the pig made of iron or riveted flesh? Make up your mind!

TV Tidbits: Kyle Chandler Is the Man

In what appears to be a crushing blow to the hopes of anyone who wants more crappy television shows, yesterday it was announced that NBC's stellar high school football drama Friday Night Lights was renewed for another season.

This is something of a surprise, given the show's low ratings over its first season and the network's propensity to shift its time slot quite often, which included a move to Wednesday nights competing directly against America's Next Top Model. I would say that I can't believe male America couldn't do more to support FNL, but then I'd be a hypocrite. ANTM is some damn good television, too.

All that aside, there is one big catch to this great news: Friday Night Lights is getting way more literal, since NBC is actually moving it (again) to Friday nights. This is practically a death sentence for almost any show that isn't geared to losers or the elderly.

FNL deserves better. It's very similar to something like M*A*S*H, using a central conceit (football) as a springboard for exploring many diverse themes. And it rarely rings false, quite a feat for "high school" shows, which are notoriously contrived, as are most attempts to fictionalize the world of sports.

Don't get me wrong, though. If you like sports--especially football--you'll like this show. You'll also like Kyle Chandler, who would have caught a big break by now if people had been paying attention. Grey's Anatomy doesn't count.

We already lost this gem once upon a time. Let's not let another one slip away.

Seriously, These Guys Can Hit

The Phillies are once again within sniffing distance of .500 after a spectacular comeback win against the Brewers tonight--mostly thanks to Derrick Turnbow, a former Philadelphia prospect who was famously the first MLB player caught doing steroids. If anyone's counting, that's the second 6-run, late-inning rally in the past three games. Where are the "Everybody Hits!" people when you need them?

This should not be happening. The Phils are historically on the business end of such rallies. But to do this to the Cubs, a team that's better than their record suggests, and the Brewers, arguably the hottest team in baseball? It's a strange new feeling. I honestly don't know what to say, so I'm going to post this picture of Von Hayes falling down and hope it will return me to a normal mental state.


That's better. But it should be against the law to put a photo like that on a man's baseball card.

Phillies Notes: Scoring Is Not A Problem

Hey there, beautiful. Do you come here often? Well, maybe you wouldn't mind helping me look for my Purple Heart. I seem to have misplaced it somewhere, along with all my competent relief pitchers.

You cannot possibly be shutting me out right now. That's impossible. It hasn't happened to me even once. I've conquered them all--Ted Lilly, Kyle Lohse, even Matt Morris. Now, if you want to see somebody strike out, go talk to Florida. That dude is a loser.

Yep, scoring is not a problem for me. I'm outscoring most of my peers, yet somehow I still have a losing record. Story of my life. I think I'm winning people over but I just can't close the deal. Plus I just lost my best wingman, Ryan Howard, for at least the next couple weeks. Truth be told, he hasn't been himself lately.

This is kinda bad news since Milwaukee is coming to visit soon, and he's quite a player himself. And he's so annoyingly good at stopping other dudes from scoring; it's like he's his own mother hen. I'll try my best to keep scoring. Though I must say, it seems to lack the fulfillment I am looking for. But no more excuses for now. It's time to play like a champion.

Or at least look like one on paper.