The Unraveling of a Rival
I want to follow on the heels of Graydon’s excellent Notebook with a comment about a single play from last night. This post is a variation on a theme: the unraveling of a rival.
With 38 seconds to play, down by 4, Steve Nash inexplicably fouled Bruce Bowen away from the ball. According to the rules, fouls away from the ball in the final two minutes result in two shots and possession. In other words, Steve Nash gave the game away on that foul.
We all goof from time to time, and maybe Nash, however uncharacteristically, just lost his head for a moment. Judging by Terry Porter’s pronounced sideline mannerisms, I suspect he did not direct Nash to make the foul. It was just a bone-headed play late in a game that was slipping away. In the warp and woof of a long season, it’s already forgotten. But it meant something to me.
The Suns have given the Spurs a handful of victories this decade. Whether considering Mike D’Antoni’s late game time management, hot-headed players clearing benches, or failed defensive rotations, the Suns have lost games against the Spurs they should have won. The one Sun, however, who seemed to possess an insatiable desire to win–whose passion to beat the Spurs stood strongly against their championship poise–was Steve Nash.
Everyone remembers Nash’s bloody nose from Game 1 of the 2007 Suns-Spurs series. That sequence has always stood out to me—it’s hung in my memory as an interminable symbol of Nash’s will to win. I vividly remember Nash’s expression as he set on the bench while the trainers attended to the difficult task of closing the gushing wound on his nose– he set and stared with a look of utter annoyance and spitfire resolve to get back on the court and secure a victory. He played like a lion that game. As a Spurs fan, I trembled a little. But we all know the Suns-Spurs metanarrative is a tragic tale for Phoenix. Nash returned to the court, but only to lose.
Nash’s muddleheaded foul on Bowen is a symbol of a different kind. It was the unexpected whimper that comes in place of the anticipated bang. The Suns have fallen. They are stuffed men, leaning together, headpieces filled with straw. I wish Steve Kerr would blow his team up. Not because it makes good basketball sense, but because it’s what’s best for the story.
