*I’m writing about sports again, trying to sound smart. I worry that I just copy brilliance from the likes of Free Darko and Bomani Jones. But, regardless, here’s me rambling.
It’s hard not to feel bad for Yao Ming. The guy is a freak of nature, and is incredibly dominant…when he can play. And, judging by the news today, he may never be able to play again. This is incredibly sad to me because Yao was entering the prime part of his career and had the potential to be a Bill Russell type of player on defense, that changed the way the offense operated and allowed the Tracy McGradys and the Aaron Brooks of the world to prosper even further. But, some things are just not meant to be. When both Yao and McGrady were healthy, the Rockets looked like a team destined to win a Championship. McGrady would show up on Sports Center showcasing amazing talent, and Yao would walk away from every game with jaw dropping defensive numbers. But then, injuries set in. McGrady and Yao were never healthy at the same time. McGrady wound up getting traded to the Knicks and now plays with Rip Hamilton in Detroit, which isn’t nearly as good as it sounds. And Yao apparently can’t walk up and down a hard wood floor without getting hurt. Now, we’re left with a guy who was entering his prime who will probably face serious consequences if he ever tries to play again. This is the same guy who brought the NBA to an entire culture, that has had more economic and global impact for the Association than almost anyone in the past few decades besides 23 (the first one,) 24, and that guy who played Kazam.
I guess it’s stuff like this that makes me realize how great the old great ones really are. Yao’s body couldn’t handle the strain of the sport, and the way he was treated in games, being limited to 24 minutes a game, having all kinds of protective measures, it was like he was the NBA equivalent of a Tennessee Williams character. That kind of makes me appreciate the Russells, Chamberlins, and Olajuwons more, and how rare those guys are. And that those guys were never just big walls of height, either. All three of them were elegant power given form, and completely changed the way the game was played. I’m biased a bit here because I saw Olajuwon as I grew up, and as a result, he is my favorite player, so I want to make sure I don’t undersell the two giants from decades ago. In their book, Free Darko describes Russell and Chamberlin as the representatives of opposite sides of every argument: defense vs. offense, team vs. individual, left vs. right, righteousness vs. sin. Regardless of which one you prefer, both represented a cosmic shift in how basketball was played, especially at the time. Wilt broke every record known to man. Bill has more rings than MJ. They were forces of nature that were undeniable and have showed their impact through the ages. Everything they did defied logic. Bruce Lee famously described how we should attempt to be like water: infinitely adaptable, powerful movements without exertion, an irresistible force. And, really, that’s what these two were: fluid force incarnate.
Olajuwon is slightly overshadowed by that other guy who played when he did, Michael Jordan. Many argue that the Rockets rings during that period don’t count because Jordan wasn’t in the league, but that, as Bomani Jones has said, ignores what Olajuwon was. Olajuwon had everything. It was unfair having to play him. He was big. He was fast. He had a post game. He had a jump shot. He had that incomparable “Dream Shake.” And, to top it all off, he was smart. He understood how other players approached the games, and could shut them down because of it. If setting up on the outside didn’t work, he could always move past them. He blew past defenders because they often underestimated what he could really do. After winning his fourth ring, Kobe Bryant went to Olajuwon to make himself better, to gain insight from the master. For me, Olajuwon is the reason Yao was always so great to watch and Dwight Howard is so infuriating: every once in a while, Yao would show a flash of understanding what Hakeem knew, and Howard, despite his unparalleled potential, hasn’t pushed himself to that level yet. Dwight has the potential and the size to be a new Olajuwon, but for whatever reason, whether it’s because he’s too nice, or more in tuned to the defensive part of the game, or whatever, he hasn’t hit that yet, when he could be doing so much more. But, I’ll keep watching him, waiting, hoping for that light to go on, and for him to move immediately after he gets the ball before the defense can get set, for him to use his intuition and understanding more than his long arms.
That’s, for me, what makes basketball so entertaining: that blend of pure athleticism with grace and intelligence. Wilt could have plowed over guys, and Russell could have one more on offense, but neither did it because they didn’t have to. Olajuwon’s presence on the court has never really been measured by stats, because with him on the interior, especially coupled with Cylde Drexler, it opened up shots for Kenny Smith and others beyond the arc. There are plenty of assists from Olajuwon that were never recorded because of an extra pass. By stepping on the court, he changed how the game would be played. Playing him one on one was never an option, since it essentially meant leaving him open. To see that happen is so rare, it’s impossible not ot get excited when there’s a possibility. While the Lebrons, Kobes, and Michaels of the world (rightfully) get applause for their feats, and the Tim Duncans (though there really may only be one of him) get respect for understanding their role and excelling at it, the Howards and the Amares of the world are the players I watch intently because so much of what they do can go unnoticed if they play the right way. And, if we’re all lucky, one day we’ll see a Yao, a Dwight, or an Amare become a Russell. And that day, giants will walk the earth once more.
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