Pop Culture, Vol. 8
We’ve shied away from the traditional recaps you can find all over the interwebs, but we still have a few thoughts after each game. For more as they happen, be sure to follow 48MoH on Twitter. You’ll find our post-game grades in emoji form there.
Trevor Zickgraf
I’m not sure what the Spurs’ ceiling is, but it’s clear they’re not near it and they’re still really good right now. It’s clear the first unit offense is still figuring things out. How could they not be. Everyone but Danny Green is basically shifting to a new role. Tony Parker can pick his spots and Tim Duncan can REALLY pick his spots. LaMarcus Aldridge is still figuring out when to take over and when to work in the flow of the offense and Kawhi Leonard is trying to understand carrying a larger load. However, the defense looks really sharp already. 48 Minutes of Hell friend Zach Lowe likes to point out how menacing Oklahoma City can be on defense because of their length, especially on the front line. I think you can say the same for San Antonio when Kawhi, LaMarcus and Duncan are on the court.
Doug Collins made a point of mentioning this on the ESPN broadcast, but the style of play is so different when the bulk of the bench is in. That starts with Manu Ginobili. He looks better right now than any time last season and it results in chaos on the court. He’s been a disruptive force on offense, setting up teammates at will and getting his own shot when the opportunity presents itself. He’s a legit Sixth Man of the Year candidate. He’s second on the team in PER at 24.31, which is insanely good. David West and lately, Rasual Butler, have slid into that frenetic system very nicely and it’s clear when the starters exit, the bench keeps up the pressure. The Spurs are good, they’re going to get better and it’s not totally clear how much better they can be.
Caleb Saenz
“Loyalty to any one sports team is pretty hard to justify,” Jerry Seinfeld once said . “You’re actually rooting for the clothes, when you get right down to it.”
For a franchise known for hiring and developing “good guys,” the Spurs are no strangers to the sound of fervent boos. Everyone who was in a Suns jersey on the night Steve Nash had his hip rocked has gone to another team or left the league altogether, but that hasn’t stopped fans in Phoenix from letting the old guys in silver and black have it when their names are read before a game. Kawhi Leonard was still going through puberty when Robert Horry squared up and leaned in, but to people cheering for the Suns, this is immaterial. Any player in San Antonio’s funeral shades is the enemy, a threat to a fan’s investment – financial, emotional, imaginary. There is little logic behind the emotions of fandom, but the feelings inspired are sincere.
LaMarcus Aldridge returned to what had been his home for nearly a decade Wednesday night and got a taste of how quickly the world can move with a simple change of clothes. The booing wasn’t overwhelming – certainly not the loudest a Spur in a number 12 jersey has ever heard – but it was definitely there, mixed with the cheers, an emotional reminder of the fault lines NBA summers often establish.
Spurs fans, having retained all of their franchise centerpieces, are lucky enough to have never experienced such complex and conflicting emotions. But it isn’t just Blazers fans who had a difficult time dealing with this summer. Aldridge, too, wrestled with his decision. Yesterday, Yahoo’s Adrian Wojnarowski gave readers a peek behind the scenes – very much worth your time if you haven’t read it yet – and revealed how for Aldridge, no concern trumped what would actually transpire on the court. Unlike other teams, the Spurs pitched Aldridge without formality or pretense. There were no championship rings to display, no slide presentations to walk through, no cell phones to distract. There was just basketball.
So in an emotional return on Wednesday night, Aldridge didn’t do much to address the crowd. There were no taunts given to fire back at the booing, no tearful acknowledgment of his record-setting body of work to respond to the cheers. All Aldridge did was play. Just like he used to in Portland. Just like he does now in San Antonio. In a profession where loyalty became a meme, the only thing left to pledge to is the game.
