Portland Trail Blazers 98, San Antonio Spurs 94
The air of optimism I had begun to breathe was sucked from the room this evening when the Spurs fell to the woefully undermanned Blazers 98-94. There’s always a temptation to point to a few particulars and excuse the loss: We took 21 three-pointers, only six of which went through the net even though the vast majority were decent looks. And we consistently forced the Blazers into taking long jumpers late in the shot clock, many of which happened to fall. As Coach Pop often says, they made shots; we didn’t.
Other details are far more damning. For instance, we were outrebounded by a team that, because of injuries, was left without its first and second string centers. More specifically, we allowed a combination of Juwan Howard, Jeff Pendergraph, and Dante Cunningham to corral 20 boards, six of which were offensive (the Blazers had 11 offensive rebounds overall). When your frontline is composed of Tim Duncan, DeJuan Blair, and Antonio McDyess, there is absolutely no excuse for that.
There are several other macro elements to bemoan: the Spurs turned the ball over excessively in the first half (although my choice of adverb begs the question, “what is an unexcessive turnover?). After going 13-14 from the charity stripe in the first, the Spurs only took three free throw attempts in the second half. And, generally put, the Blazers seemed more prepared to play a physical brand of basketball. But there are a few specific tactical elements of the game that I found interesting/confusing that I’d rather focus my recap on.
In the first quarter the Spurs ran a few pick-and-pops for Duncan and McDyess. There’s nothing unusual about that play; the Spurs run it incessantly. What is unusual is its absence for the remainder of the game. After running three in the first quarter (on which the Spur were 2-3), we ran none in the second, 2 in the third, and none in the fourth.
Whether it ends in a long (but nearly always wide-open) two, a quick pass to a rolling forward, or a mismatch for the driving guard, the pick-and-roll at the top of the paint is a way to get a high quality look on command. The play’s practical disappearance for the final 36 minutes is all the more confusing given that Jeff Pendergraph and Dante Cunningham saw a combined 26 minutes in the Blazers frontcourt tonight, and rookies are notoriously bad at defending the pick-and-roll.
But of all the tactical aspects of tonight’s game, I’m most intrigued by the placement of our perimeter shooters on two plays: one general, one specific.
Throughout the second half, someone, oftentimes Tony Parker, found himself in the corner facing Tim Duncan on the corresponding low block. The man in the corner would dish it in to Duncan, who was being double teamed immediately, sometimes before the pass even arrived. But the double team was not coming from the perimeter defender who was covering the passer; instead the weak side post defender was fully committing to doubling Duncan. In these situations, the perimeter defender was able to stay home on the player who made the initial pass while the two men guarding Duncan were able to crowd the baseline, preventing him from going glass. Instead, Duncan was consistently forced to make a move to the middle, in which is he far less likely to draw a foul.
Meanwhile two or three (depending on the lineup) other Spurs were perched along the three-point line on the opposite side of the floor. My question is, why wasn’t one of those players set up along the near side perimeter or, even better, shifting into position as the entry pass (and subsequent double) arrived?
If you rotate a man to the top of the key or a few feet over along the curve of the arc, you give Duncan, who is an excellent inside-outside passer, an opportunity to make the defense pay for the double. The second near-side shooter either has an open look or is in excellent position to swing the ball along the perimeter and find the player whose man has left him and overcommitted to Duncan. Instead the Spurs left Duncan without a viable pass and with a surprisingly difficult shot.
The specific play that intrigues me began with Manu Ginobili’s rebound with 1:00 left in the fourth and ended when Richard Jefferson missed a corner three with 43 seconds left.
During that play, Richard Jefferson positioned himself in the corner while Roger Mason was stationed halfway between the corner and the top of the arc. Jefferson received a beautiful pass and got a wide open look which, disappointingly, did not go in. My question is, why was Mason at angle and Jefferson in the corner?
Mason is the better 3-point shoooter and Jefferson is the better slasher. But on this particular play, Jefferson was setup to receive a better perimeter look while Mason was given a clear path to attack the rim. My first thought was, they should switch- Mason should be be in position to catch-and-shoot while Jefferson should have the alley to the basket. And for most of the game, that is exactly where the would line up.
But I wonder if their position was switched exactly because of the scenario. Mason is the better shooter so place Jefferson in the corner, which is an easier look, while simultaneously placing Mason on the angle, where he is comfortable shooting from anyways. During any old play, you set Mason up for the three and Jefferson up for the drive. Down by four with under a minute left, you set each up with a three-point look they are comfortable taking.
My last question concerns Gregg Popovich’s decision to aggressively double team LaMarcus Aldridge. In Monday’s game against the Clippers, Pop chose to consistently play Chris Kaman straight up. Apparently he is more threatened by Aldridge, given that he sent two defenders at him throughout the second half. But Aldridge effectively passed out of the double, and the Blazers nailed five of the eleven three-pointers they took before scrambling rotators were able to recover. What was it about tonight’s game that made Pop more willing to stray from his “stay home” defensive strategy, and risk the open three in order to double Aldridge?
