Violence and the Sacred Hoops
Henry Abbott has a pet theory. Henry thinks the “boring” basketball that followed the Bulls’ championship era was an ugly, unwitting response to the athletic splendor of Michael Jordan. “Muscled-up wing players” like Doug Christie weren’t capable of reproducing Michael Jordan’s offensive genius, but they were capable of shoving people around on defense. Chippy, physical perimeter defense was not only an attempt to corral Michael Jordan, it was an unintended consequence of our fascination with him.
But Michael Jordan was a shove-alot muscled-up wing player, and one the best perimeter defenders to play the game. He was chippy and physical and let-the-referees-blow-their-whistle tough. He was a winner. And he knew winning required grit. He wasn’t a consequence of himself.
Phil Jackson likes to espouse hardwood zen, but it’s striking that his best defenders (Michael Jordan, Dennis Rodman, Scottie Pippen, and Kobe Bryant) aren’t overly contemplative. If the NBA has a zen master, it’s Tim Duncan. Jordan, Pippen, Rodman and Bryant force the issue. For them, the conflict is the competition. Their pursuit of beauty and greatness and simple dominance requires bloodshed.
I subscribe to Emerson’s “beauty is its own excuse for being” maxim. My interest in basketball could begin and end there. Basketball is beautiful. Beauty is enough for me. Â But I don’t see beauty and conflict as mutually exclusive. Violence is capable of poetry, too.
The thing I remember most about Michael Jordan is not contained in any highlight reel, at least not explicitly. It’s not Jordan’s physique or athletic prowess. What I remember most about Michael Jordan is that he wanted to crush his opponents, and he usually did. The question before us is whether this was a byproduct of his desire to win or whether winning was a byproduct of his desire to conquer? Which is the cart? Which is the horse?  When we say, “I want to be like Mike,” what do we mean?
Bruce Bowen is the Spur whose adherence to the let-them-bleed credo is most villainized. But what the Spurs need more than anything is a Bowenesque wing defender. If Richard Jefferson is a disappointment, he’s a disappointment in this sense: he has never given the impression that he would delight in suffocating his opponent.
The Spurs have a glut of wings in camp, but not a single one shows the shove-alot mentality that is common in great perimeter defenders. Alonzo Gee possesses the athleticism and Richard Jefferson has the muscle, but the Spurs are still searching for a single wing who puts it together with a desire to vanquish.
Bruce Bowen was strong, but not He-Manish. He didn’t have the athleticism to compete with the NBA’s best players. But long after a player of his skill level should have moved on to a second career, he was still on the court defending the league’s best players. It’s for this reason that I place the desire to defend before all other defensive necessities. Players like Dennis Rodman and Bruce Bowen don’t ugly up the game, they understand it. Bumps and nudges and aggressive invasions of space are not devolutionary. These things represent defense in a state of heightened awareness.
When Richard Jefferson came to the Spurs, Gregg Popovich openly talked about San Antonio’s desire for RJ to become a wing stopper. Jefferson has enough athleticism, and he certainly has the physique. Jefferson’s inability (thus far) to play great man defense for the Spurs is a failure of the heart.
Gore Vidal famously said “every time a friend succeeds, a little part of me dies.” What the Spurs need is a wing defender who will take delight in the failure of his friends — a defender whose principle motivation is pushing his friends to failure.
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