Boston Celtics

Last year, I said that Danny Ainge is an idiot, mainly because of his trade for Raef La Frentz. That’s enough to retain idiot-status for several seasons. The Celtics traded to get Antoine Walker back midway through last season, helping them get on a “run” to win the Atlantic Division. They posted the fewest wins ever for a division winner and may have been the biggest first-round underdog as a third-seed in league history. As expected, they got wrecked by the Pacers in the first round, and headed back to square one, as Walker and Gary Payton left.

They’re back to relying on a sullen, second-rate superstar in Paul Pierce and a hypertalented idiot in Ricky Davis. I give them credit for not flaking out too much during last season, but when your key off-season acquisitions are Dan Dickau and Brian Scalabrine, you’re not exactly taking strides into the future.

I loved Scalabrine with the Nets, but he symbolizes a horrible truth about the NBA: good role-players shouldn’t get long-term deals. Scalabrine signed a 5-year/$15-million deal with Boston, and I’m glad that he’s getting paid, but he’s a nice hustle player who looks too much like Beaker to be taken seriously. In recent years, there’s been a run of journeymen getting long-term contracts (Kevin Ollie, Brian Cardinal, Earl Boykins, Greg Bruckner, et al.), and it became apparent pretty soon that these guys never got long-term deals before because they’re just not that good. They’re great stop-gap players, and sometimes they can put on a nice run for a few weeks, but they’re going to end up outliving their usefulness and getting lumped into trades as salary-cap ballast within a year or two. So, I hope the Scalabrine era goes well in Boston, but I’d advise him to rent, not buy.

The Celts will probably be okay this season, unless there’s an early losing streak. At that point, Pierce will get sullen, point fingers, and end up with “nagging injuries” that “limit his effectiveness” till he gets traded for pennies on the dollar.

Fortunately, it’s Boston, so the starting lineup is 60% white.

Projected Record: 36-46

* * *

New Jersey Nets

Rod Thorn’s a heck of a GM. After the team’s new owner went into fire-sale mode the previous offseason, Thorn was able to convince him that fans are not likely to support a team that announces it’s in “cost-cutting mode”, then swindled Toronto out of Vince Carter, who is the Dominique Wilkins of this era. Also, last season’s Euro-import, Nenad Krstic, turned out to be a pretty good offensive player and a decent rebounder. He looks like a skinny Kevin McHale in the post; given that I had had my share of up-and-under post moves back when I weighed 155, I really feel for Krstic. If only he wore goggles and had goofier hair.

Going into this season, the Nets look like they’re trying to repeat the Phoenix Suns’ formula from last year, with a ton of running, athletic players who can rebound and run the break, complemented by spot-up shooters (Lamond Murray and Scott Padgett). I don’t think it’ll work too well, since none of the Big Three players are as deadly from long-range as most of the Suns were, so the break’ll probably be predicated more on speed than on the secondary shooters that Phoenix relied on.

It may’ve worked better if Thorn had completed his trade for Shareef Abdur-Rahim, which would’ve given the Nets a post-up black-hole to dump the ball into when the break stalled, but I’m always wary of guys who pile up huge numbers on losing teams.

The Nets will be fun to watch, with Carter and Richard Jefferson climbing all over the rim, and Marckque Jackson tossing players around like rag dolls. I think they’re positioned to win the Atlantic, provided the Big Three stay healthy and backup PG Jeff McInnis doesn’t get beaten to death by Charles Oakley.

Projected Record: 51-31

* * *

New York Knicks

Isiah Thomas has become the last chick in the bar at closing time. Twice this offseason, he held out till the bitter end, and turned into the only option for some lonely men: Larry Brown and Eddy Curry. Thanks to his strategy of hanging out by the jukebox and drinking wine coolers, he has a new coach and a new starting center. It doesn’t matter that the former uses a catheter and the latter may drop dead of a heart attack at any time.

Brown will go nuts and try to get Stephon Marbury traded by the end of November. This will be followed by mean comments to the tabloids about Jamal Crawford, Quentin Richardson, and Maurice Taylor, all flawed players brought in by the GM. Brown will realize his misstep when he says Curry has no heart.

Doubly unfortunate for the Knicks is that this appears to be the first time in years that the team had a decent draft, netting some young big men and an explosive guard. I say it’s unfortunate because Larry Brown won’t play any rookies. This is probably because of their lack of experience. You figure it out; he’s the genius.

The team’s undersized as ever — if you consider Marbury to be a shooting guard — and the best rebounder is Richardson, will be spending a bunch of time out on the perimeter as the only legit 3-point threat.

Speaking of 3-point threats, it wouldn’t be right to talk about the Knicks without saying a fond farewell to sweet-shooting anti-Semite Allan Houston, who retired after Jewish doctors were unable to repair his arthritic knee, which is all part of God’s plan.

Projected Record: 44-38

* * *

Philadelphia 76ers

I don’t even know where to start with these guys. Everyone praised Allen Iverson’s performance last year, but it just seemed to me like a continuation of his ball-hogging ways. His stats looked better, but that was just a function of his dominating the ball more than ever: it having a “career-high” in assists (7.9 per game) was great, but it was accompanied by a career-high in turnovers (4.6 per game). At least he got another coach fired, to be replaced by a former teammate in Mo Cheeks, who will probably trumpet AI’s stats for steals, without mentioning that most of them come at the expense of gambling on defense, and forcing the rest of the team to cover up for him.

But I spent LAST year goofing on Iverson. Throughout his career, he proved he can’t play with anyone who actually needs the ball to be effective, so it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion as to how this season will shake out with Chris Webber, who’s old, shot, and could never be relied on in the clutch.

The Sixers have actually put together an intriguing batch of younger players, headlined by Andre Iguodala, Samuel Dalembert, and Kyle Korver, but their development will be stunted by AI the same way Gary Payton crippled the progression of Seattle players for years. On the positive side, AI will probably miss 10-20 games this year because of various injuries, so the other players may have a chance to develop and gain some in-game experience before he returns and dominates the ball again.

Philly also has my favorite one-dimensional player, Lee Nailon, who can do nothing but score.

Projected Record: 42-40

* * *

Toronto Raptors

Holy crap, is this team going to be terrible. Everyone knows you never get equal value when you trade away a superstar player, but what they took back for Vince Carter was ridiculous. Watching Carter go on to break the Nets’ single-season scoring record–despite playing only 57 games for them–must’ve pissed off the Toronto fans, after VC tanked it early in the year so he could get traded. What does the team have left? Chris Bosh (a young, productive big man who will leave the moment he’s a free agent), Jalen Rose (possessed of one of the most bloated contracts–7 years/$92 million–in league history), and Charlie Villanueva (a rookie who might be productive in a couple years, but probably went way too high in the draft). Villanueva may have problems playing for the team this year, since he’ll need both a work visa from Canada and approval from the Men in Black to stay on our planet.

Toronto has two things going for it in training camp: they have four players named Williams (Eric, Aaron, Alvin and Corey), and they brought in Robert Pack, whom they eventually cut.

I only mention Pack because I once pulled up alongside him at a traffic light in Hackensack, NJ. I figured out it was him because of the “PAC JAM” license plate on the expensive black Mercedes. I rolled my window down and motioned for him to do the same. I said, “You Robert Pack?”

“Yeah.”

“I really loved your game when you were down in DC. Good luck this year.” He thanked me, light turned green, vroom.

Later that season, when he was playing against the Sixers, official VM flake A-Fink was sitting behind the opposing bench and said, “Hey, Pack! You still got those Oregon tags on your car?” This was probably better than the time I got Derrick Coleman to turn around and glare at me during a game.

I wish the Raptors hadn’t cut him, so that he could catch on with his 9th team, and start heading for Jimmy Jackson’s record of 11 teams. Still, the team does have 40% of the league’s active Williams.

Predicted Record: 24-58 (16-48 with the exchange rate)

by Tom Spurgeon

Phoenix Suns

That sound you hear from America’s greatest city without actual city stuff is either Amare Stoudamire’s knee ligaments grinding during rehab or the sound of men all over America scrambling across the room to change their Direct TV pre-sets to some other team to watch as an ongoing back-up. In the kind of move that epitomizes the NBA today, the Suns responded to their failure to go over in the 2005 Western Conference Finals by dropping a lot of what worked about their team and adding parts that have a 50/50 chance of acting like so much corn syrup in the gas tank. Did no one other than San Antonio pay attention to the great NBA teams of the 1980s through mid-1990s, where teams stood pat and added maybe one Mychal Thompson per year, one James Edwards and then only in a reserve or supporting role? Suns point guard Randolph Mantooth will build on his largely undeserved Best Actor Emmy from last year and Phoenix will continue to be a great place to golf.

Projected Record: 81-1

* * *

Sacramento Kings

Does anyone out there think that Peja Stoyakovich still misses Hedo Turkoglu? Not on the court — no one misses Hedo on-court, especially as he grows a half-inch every year — as much in the clubs, hitting on women together in tight jeans and unbuttoned shirts. I imagine Peja trying to bond with other teammates, shivering in a fishing boat underneath a purple hat somewhere with Brad Miller, going to Vegas and screening female interns on a reality show with the Maloof Brothers, or going to mosque with Shareef Abdur-Rahim before realizing that things would never be the same again.

I think this Sacramento team would have won a lot more games than most current squads were Kang the Time Lord to assume ownership up and make them play in previous eras; at the same time, I can’t see this team getting past the first round of the layoffs. I have no idea what that means, but I can totally see the matching up well against the New York Rens. Speaking of match-ups, I look at their roster changes of the last year or so and I swear they’re trying to find way to match-up with the Portland Trailblazers rather than team that make the playoffs.

I wish I had Rick Adelman’s job security, and I’m self-employed.

Projected Record: 42-42

* * *

LA Clippers

Wouldn’t the Clippers be a good match for their previous home San Diego, and not just because of the name? How did this not work out the first time? People like visiting San Diego; I bet the Clippers would get more press coverage if they were to move. They could host their own all-star game. They could have celebrity-free crowds, even minor-celebrity-free — the San Diego audience would be like a better-dressed Dallas, or a slightly less obese Sacramento. A pleasant team with a second-rate history, the Clippers would fit San Diego’s personality far better than cruel, snotty Los Angeles. No one would make fun of Elgin Baylor’s strange 1982 haircut, or Elton Brand’s Unseld-lite style of play, or take bets on how soon they ruin their latest 17-year-old point guard prospect.

Wouldn’t a move to San Diego give me something to write about?

Projected Record: 28-54

* * *

Golden State Warriors

My suspicion is that the Warriors will be this year’s false-hope team, by which I mean you should withdraw your attention from the team and start paying attention to the fans, just for that sweet, delicious moment when they’re let down one more time. Despite winning a bunch of games at the ass-end of 2004 that only mattered to three drunk guys sitting in the Terrible’s Casino sportsbook, nothing about the way they play ball really signifies anything more than potential for future junk wins. Those kinds of opportunities just aren’t on the menu for a full 82-game season.

Two notes on the roster. First, we should all pause and celebrate the largely undistinguished career of Calbert Cheaney, who came into the league as a Big Ten first-teamer but has survived roster to roster like an NAIA scoring runner-up. Second, everyone should reorient their start page right now to Adonal Foyle’s web site, a rarely updated but always amusing stab at declaring oneself the Smartest NBA Player, just without the John Ameche overtones. It’s the perfect on-line destination for those of us who have always wondered how the all-time Warriors shot-blocker felt about the latest dispersal of funds in Iraq.

Projected Record: 28-54

* * *

LA Lakers

When it comes right down to it, I have about as much interest in Kobe Bryant and Phil Jackson as I have in any other hot media couple from the mid- to late-1990s. That would be none then; if possible, less now. Shaq and Kobe was the sexier pairing anyway; Phil and Kobe is like that unfortunate hook-up between leftover stars on the late seasons of a primetime drama, the one that makes old fans say, “I’m glad I don’t watch that anymore.”

In other news, Scottie Pippen has been brought on board to teach Lamar Odom how to be Scottie Pippen to Bryant’s Michael Jordan. One imagines a master and grasshopper relationship where Odom is forced to speak three octaves lower, trade insults with Charles Barkley, and stay on the bench during the last few seconds of playoff games. Oh, I’m kidding; Pippen was a great, great player nearly every second he allowed the coach to keep him in the game and Odom has only the cautionary high-living-as-a-young-player story of a great player. Still, it makes you wonder when the modeling stops. Did Jackson bring in Dave Debusschere to teach Horace Grant how to shoot 12-footers? I don’t recall, but I’m guessing “no.”

With Kwame Brown as Bison Dele.

Projected Record: 4-78

by Tom Spurgeon

Although none of its teams are likely to lose a game to an Israeli club squad anytime soon, the Western Conference of the NBA remains the junior circuit of the two because of history and mythology. A team in Sacramento not only sounds less interesting than one in Kansas City or Cincinnati, it is less interesting — there’s no connection to regional college passions, or the great Midwestern industrial league teams. The Clippers won titles in Buffalo, collected injured legends in San Diego and became synonymous with massive incompetence in Los Angeles. The Western Conference’s most emblematic franchise isn’t the Lakers but the Phoenix Suns, the pride of a city where one can imagine having season tickets for 10 years and never seeing anyone else you know at a game, spreads of houses connected to other spreads, each of which boasts 32 sports bars and 1,700 Dan Majerle look-alikes.

When I think of the Western Conference I think of Ralph Sampson, power forward, Mark Eaton, All-Star, and the 1979 Seattle SuperSonics, last great champions of the NBA’s recreational cocaine use/random sucker punch era. I have no love for basketball in the West; these are players that embrace Oakland and reject Vancouver; these are fans that describe Scottie Pippen as handsome and who feel Chris Mullin was a better player than Isiah Thomas. You could lop the league in half and I’d happily move to the other side of the Mississippi to celebrate.

Then again, the West has most of the good teams. What follows are my thoughts on the Western Conference basketball squads, in order of projected finish. My projected finish will be in the exact same order as last year’s actual finish, because I like cut and paste only to a certain point and last year proved forever I have no idea what I’m talking about when I put my own order forward.

Hey, dear VM readers! The NBA season kicks off next week, so it’s time for the annual VM NBA preview! Official VM buddy Tom Spurgeon & I are spending this week profiling all 30 teams. (We might also get some guest-commentary from readers about their home-town teams.)

Let’s kick it off with Tom’s NBA 2005 introduction:

NBA Basketball 2005
by Tom Spurgeon

An oft-ignored key to professional sports in America is how effectively they straddle the seasons. Basketball, especially as the game has been re-imagined since the 1970s, is in the minds of most a summer game. It’s a game of playgrounds and parks packed with bodies young and those that remember youth trying to hold the court as long as possible. Playground basketball has a bad reputation vis-a-vis its effect on the traditional, more formal competitions, but in actuality the game is closer to its best in such circumstances than sandlot football or tree-bush-sidewalk-home suburban baseball could ever hope to claim. You can carve a space for yourself in a pick-up game in Seattle’s Denny Park or near the New City Y in Chicago by rebounding and playing defense, whereas football played between two driveways rarely rewards fine pass-blocking technique and hockey in the street, well, that’s a comedy sketch, not a contest. Basketball in the summer feels real, and not just the last game of the day, before dinnertime, but the first and the second and the third, stretches of movement and muscle and skill that ignore the final score.

And yet most of basketball is played in the winter, in white-hot arenas that one must leave in a heavy, three-quartered coats, opened to catch a flash of number. It’s swimming lessons as opposed to summers at the lake, heavy footsteps on the iron indoor track at the Y rather than a run by the river. There are significant basketball memories in harsh, cold places like Syracuse, New York, Minneapolis, Minnesota and Hershey, Pennsylvania; when one thinks of the old, great barnstorming teams they ride on buses in the gray cold of wintertime, hitting factory towns and playing in what would amount to cages, a snatch of summer put in the coldest most inhumane buildings imaginable. Basketball is packed high-school gyms and temporary legends, funny insults lobbed at the bench and Iron Crown beers downed in the car. When the great NBA teams of the 1980s met to do battle for the world crown in early June, they were finishing arguments begun in backcourts all the way back in January, heated discussions echoed in bars where men drank because it was too icy to drive home and into the mountains. Magic versus Bird was the conclusion to an argument that began with Dr. J’s hands around someone’s neck months earlier. The Showtime Lakers were built on Kareem’s turnaround punch the first game of the season in Detroit.

I’m not sure the modern NBA has ever understood its place in the cold, preferring instead the summer, and the Finals, and the Dream Teams, and even the WNBA. The other sports have always known how the second season comments on the first. October’s final showdowns represent the boys of summer all grown up. Football’s winter playoffs underline the battles of Fall against a more severe backdrop (a big reason the warm-weather Super Bowl generally disappoints; it should take place on an ice floe). I’d suggest the NBA has lost a sense of winter, the cold backdrop and artificial heat that links the game to its high school and college roots, that feeling of men at work, stripped to the bone, prepared to match determination and skill and muscle. Basketball is a winter sport, and needs to be once again, although the fragile athletes and ugly, undisciplined basketball made common by rampant personnel changes all scream back that no attention need be paid until June 1. And that’s okay, too. It’s just not the same.

I’ve been a critic of Stephon Marbury for years, since he played for the Nets. Even a few weeks ago, when I heard him in a radio interview, I thought, “He’s as selfish as ever; he just doesn’t get it.”

But at the NBA’s announcement of donations for hurricane victims (in conjunction with Feed The Children) today, he stood at the podium, tried to talk about the league’s efforts to help, and cried until he couldn’t go on.

So, yeah, he’s still a selfish basketball player till proven otherwise, but he’s also a father and a man.