DeMarcus Cousins has had a tumultuous rookie season, to say the least. The player many considered to be the most talented of the 2010 draft class has put up some impressive numbers; 18 points, 11 rebounds, and 3 assists per 36 minutes, but also some less than stellar stats, including a .428 FG%, and over 4 turnovers and 5 fouls per 36 minutes. I was interested to see what happened to similar players. Did they cut down on their mistakes, or flameout despite some initial gaudy stats?
Cousins has a usage rate over 27% and a rebound rate over 17%, meaning he can create shots and rebound at a high level in the NBA. What other NBA rookies have shown similar abilities, say, a usage rate over 24% and a rebound rate over 15%? The result? Fourteen other players have accomplished this feat while playing significant minutes. If you don't want to click on the list, they are David Robinson, Tim Duncan, Larry Bird, Shaquille O'Neal, Blake Griffin, Terry Cummings, Arvydas Sabonis, Alonzo Mourning, Elton Brand, Clark Kellogg, Ralph Sampson, Christian Laettner, Cliff "not Clifford" Robinson, and Karl Malone. Before you become too optimistic, it should be noted that Karl Malone was the only one of these players to approach Cousins' inefficiency. Lest you become too pessimistic, Karl Malone was nearly as inefficient as Cousins in his rookie year.
But this list is hardly fair. Who would honestly compare the 31 year old international superstar Arvydas Sabonis to a kid coming out after his freshman year? It's not just Sabonis, either. Robinson was 24, and the list is filled with polished four year players like Laettner, Bird, and Sampson. What about a cut off by age? Cousins is 20 this year. What does the list look like if we change the qualification to 21 or younger? The list becomes 2 Shaq seasons, 2 Elton Brand seasons, 2 Cliff "not Clifford" Robinson seasons, Tim Duncan, Blake Griffin, Terry Cummings, Clark Kellogg, and Antoine Walker. Again, Cousins' 2010 was easily the least efficient season in the sample (yes, Virgina, less efficient than Antoine Walker).
That's the good. What about the bad? This time, I looked for players 21 or under that had a turnover percentage over 16 (Cousins is at 18.2%), a field goal percentage under 46%, more than 4.5 fouls per 36 minutes, and a rebounding rate above 12 to weed out the smaller players not really comparable to Cousins. This resulted in a surprisingly small list. The only other player to play more than 1100 minutes (Cousins has played over 2000 this year) while fitting that criteria is Danny Fortson. Other players who, in limited minutes, fit the criteria were Erick Dampier, DeSagana Diop, and Andray Blatche.
What have we learned? That in the past 30 years of the NBA, when all of the stats I have been sorting by have been tracked, DeMarcus Cousins is unique. There really aren't any players like him. His best comparables are probably Danny Fortson, Antoine Walker, Karl Malone, and Cliff Robinson. Players don't put up the kind of numbers Cousins had if they aren't any good. On the other hand, if they do certain things as badly as Cousins has, they don't stay on the court very long. He's already practically a 20-10-3 guy. If he cuts down on the mistakes*, he's an all-star. If he can't, he's a less valuable offensive player than Bruce Bowen ever was. Unfortunately, considering the organization he's with, that kind of improvement seems unlikely in the short term.**
*i.e., make fewer bad passes, show better awareness on defense, and take more shots closer to the basket.
**I think the only player in recent memory to improve after going to the Kings has been Beno Udrih, for some strange reason.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Goliath Always Wins: Alpha Dogs
Every team has a best player. Every team has a leading scorer. Every team has a best offensive player. Every team has a best defender. The identity of any one of these players cannot be deduced solely from the identity of any one of the other identities. For example, consider the 2011 New Orleans Hornets. Their best player is Chris Paul. Their leading scorer is David West. Their best offensive player is Chris Paul. Their best defender is (arguably) Emeka Okafor. Yet, it is impossible to logically reach any of those identities by knowing any of the other identities. A team's leading scorer is often its best offensive player, but not always. A team's best offensive player is often the team's best player, but not always. For example, Corey Maggette is a better offensive player than Andrew Bogut, but Bogut is still the Bucks' best player.
What other variables do we need to know in order to better determine who the "best" offensive player, defender, or overall player on a team is? To name a few, rebounding, passing, shooting efficiency, man defense, steals, blocked shots, altered shots, team defense, fouling, and screen setting. The distribution of talent in the NBA being what it is, figuring out the identity of the best player on a team is usually not that difficult, but there are always exceptions. These exceptions generally occur when a team has no very good players, like this year's Kings squad, or multiple good players like the 2010 Denver Nuggets, whose best player was either Carmelo Anthony, Chauncey Billups, or Nene, depending on the metric used. With all of these uncertain variables, how can we determine which player contributes most to the team winning?
Some of the issues concerning finding the best player are reminiscent of the issues concerning finding the best team. The best team is the one that wins, the one that controls the game. In the same way, it is expected that the best player is the one that contributes most to winning, and is the one that controls the game. This brings us to Alpha Dogs.
The Alpha Dog is the player that holds the most control over the game, the player that has the biggest positive impact of anybody on the floor. In the mythology's most unsophisticated form, his team will triumph because he will win the game for them. As we have already seen, there are a plethora of ways players can impact the game. Typically, the Alpha Dog is defined by his role on offense, which is taking the ball and scoring, as that is how teams win. This is an easy way to solve the "problem" laid out in the first two paragraphs. It is acknowledged that there is value in aspects of the game other than scoring, and the players who excel in these areas are called "role players". Every championship team has them, but they are not nearly as important as the Alpha Dog.
You may quibble with the assertions laid out in the previous paragraph, but I don't think it is disputable that for whoever believes in the Alpha Dog/Role Player dichotomy, the most important skill a basketball player can possess is to be able to create shots for himself. When looked at in this way, some of the Alpha Dog mythology starts to fall apart. The major problem with the mythology is that many skills result in more or better shots being taken for a team besides the ability to drive or create an open fadeaway jumper. What are some of those skills? Good passing, forcing a missed shot, forcing a turnover, grabbing a rebound, setting a good pick, etc.
The reason often given for the prioritizing of this particular skill is that it is most valuable late in games when it is more difficult to run a set offense. In these situations, the advantage often goes to skilled swingmen who can create their own shots. These are the players generally considered Alpha Dogs. Now, it is very likely that these types of players have an advantage in these situations. Still, all that means is that when one is constructing a team, having a wing player that can create his own shot is a priority. That does not necessarily outweigh everything else that happens on the basketball court.
An easy example of a situation in which the best player and the player filling the role of Alpha Dog are different players is the 2009 Orlando Magic with Dwight Howard and Hedo Turkoglu. Looking at that team, it seems silly to suggest that Turkoglu was the Magic's best player because he was the best at creating shots in the final minute. It seems silly to suggest that he exerted more control over the game than Dwight Howard.
Another, more controversial, example is the Los Angeles Lakers. Kobe Bryant is not a bad all-around player, but his greatest skill lies in taking, and sometimes making, shots that nobody else would even attempt. He scores a lot of points and the ball is usually in his hands. On the other hand, Pau Gasol is a decent scorer, but most of his contributions come in the areas of rebounding, passing, defense, and missing a lower percentage of his shots than his teammates, including Bryant. To the casual observer, it sure looks like Bryant's the one controlling the game because he's the one with the ball, but are the ways Gasol creates extra shots just as important, if less obvious?
By asking these questions, it should be obvious that I am casting doubts on the Alpha Dog/Role Player dichotomy. But I want to continue to use it to explore issues of winning and teambuilding. Next time: is there something special about winners?
What other variables do we need to know in order to better determine who the "best" offensive player, defender, or overall player on a team is? To name a few, rebounding, passing, shooting efficiency, man defense, steals, blocked shots, altered shots, team defense, fouling, and screen setting. The distribution of talent in the NBA being what it is, figuring out the identity of the best player on a team is usually not that difficult, but there are always exceptions. These exceptions generally occur when a team has no very good players, like this year's Kings squad, or multiple good players like the 2010 Denver Nuggets, whose best player was either Carmelo Anthony, Chauncey Billups, or Nene, depending on the metric used. With all of these uncertain variables, how can we determine which player contributes most to the team winning?
Some of the issues concerning finding the best player are reminiscent of the issues concerning finding the best team. The best team is the one that wins, the one that controls the game. In the same way, it is expected that the best player is the one that contributes most to winning, and is the one that controls the game. This brings us to Alpha Dogs.
The Alpha Dog is the player that holds the most control over the game, the player that has the biggest positive impact of anybody on the floor. In the mythology's most unsophisticated form, his team will triumph because he will win the game for them. As we have already seen, there are a plethora of ways players can impact the game. Typically, the Alpha Dog is defined by his role on offense, which is taking the ball and scoring, as that is how teams win. This is an easy way to solve the "problem" laid out in the first two paragraphs. It is acknowledged that there is value in aspects of the game other than scoring, and the players who excel in these areas are called "role players". Every championship team has them, but they are not nearly as important as the Alpha Dog.
You may quibble with the assertions laid out in the previous paragraph, but I don't think it is disputable that for whoever believes in the Alpha Dog/Role Player dichotomy, the most important skill a basketball player can possess is to be able to create shots for himself. When looked at in this way, some of the Alpha Dog mythology starts to fall apart. The major problem with the mythology is that many skills result in more or better shots being taken for a team besides the ability to drive or create an open fadeaway jumper. What are some of those skills? Good passing, forcing a missed shot, forcing a turnover, grabbing a rebound, setting a good pick, etc.
The reason often given for the prioritizing of this particular skill is that it is most valuable late in games when it is more difficult to run a set offense. In these situations, the advantage often goes to skilled swingmen who can create their own shots. These are the players generally considered Alpha Dogs. Now, it is very likely that these types of players have an advantage in these situations. Still, all that means is that when one is constructing a team, having a wing player that can create his own shot is a priority. That does not necessarily outweigh everything else that happens on the basketball court.
An easy example of a situation in which the best player and the player filling the role of Alpha Dog are different players is the 2009 Orlando Magic with Dwight Howard and Hedo Turkoglu. Looking at that team, it seems silly to suggest that Turkoglu was the Magic's best player because he was the best at creating shots in the final minute. It seems silly to suggest that he exerted more control over the game than Dwight Howard.
Another, more controversial, example is the Los Angeles Lakers. Kobe Bryant is not a bad all-around player, but his greatest skill lies in taking, and sometimes making, shots that nobody else would even attempt. He scores a lot of points and the ball is usually in his hands. On the other hand, Pau Gasol is a decent scorer, but most of his contributions come in the areas of rebounding, passing, defense, and missing a lower percentage of his shots than his teammates, including Bryant. To the casual observer, it sure looks like Bryant's the one controlling the game because he's the one with the ball, but are the ways Gasol creates extra shots just as important, if less obvious?
By asking these questions, it should be obvious that I am casting doubts on the Alpha Dog/Role Player dichotomy. But I want to continue to use it to explore issues of winning and teambuilding. Next time: is there something special about winners?
Monday, January 17, 2011
Monday, December 13, 2010
Goliath Always Wins: Playoffs?!?
The following set of essays are some of my thoughts concerning the way NBA fans and writers think about the sport, particularly those aspects regarding “winners” and “champions.” First though, I want to return to the basics of how we think about these subjects, beginning with the playoffs.
Questions beget questions, often making it difficult to find a suitable starting point. The question, “does the best team usually win the championship” raises the question “how do we judge which team is best” as well as the question “why use a playoff system to determine a champion?” Both questions seem to point to an answer that would include the proposition that head to head matchups are an acceptable solution to the “problem” of determining dominance. Yet even accepting this answer, we we still want to know, “why do we want to determine a champion in the first place?” This leads into all sorts of questions about the nature of competition and competitive sports (are there any other kind of sports?).
Why is the playoff system seemingly omnipresent in professional (and even amateur) sports? One reason for its dominance is money. Ever since team owners realized that people would pay more money to see the best teams play against each other, they have tried to get the best teams in their arenas. Some proof of this theory can be seen in the success of the Harlem Globetrotters, especially in the years before black players starred in the NBA. More proof can be seen in the difference between attendance figures of your average NBA team's home games against the Lakers and the Clippers. As well as featuring quality games, a playoff system adds extra games, and the corresponding extra revenue. There's a reason the gradual trend in professional sports has been towards more games in a season, not less. It is therefore not surprising that the playoffs have assumed such a central role in the sports season when it is in the financial interests of the owners, players, and league(s) that they are so important.
None of this is to suggest that playoff series are meaningless or are not usually won by the best team. What it does show is one reason the focus on the playoffs as the ultimate test of a player (and team's) skill and worth is arbitrary. There is nothing about the game of basketball that inherently demands a playoff system. Furthermore, if one must have a playoff system, why a linear series of head to head matchups instead of a round robin type format? A round robin has the dramatic disadvantages of teams playing games after they have been eliminated, and holds the possibility of one team being eliminated in favor of a team it had defeated. On the other hand, our current system anoints the “best” team as the one that has matched up best against its opponents. Ask the 2007 Mavericks what happens to an excellent team when faced with an inferior team that matches up well against them. (Or, I would argue, the 1995 Jazz.) Whatever the case, it is difficult to make the argument that a few head to head contests provide a better measure of team quality than many games against varied competition.
But surely I would not want to claim that the playoffs do not give us any new information besides a few extra data points tacked on the end of the season. What gives the playoffs their importance? As far as I can tell, the genuine importance of the playoffs comes from the fact that the players attach greater worth to the playoffs than the regular season. What player will say that they try harder in a March game against the Clippers than in Game 7 of the NBA Finals? In extreme form, this can be seen in the success of the 2001 Lakers and 2010 Celtics, who (the popular narrative goes) sleepwalked through much of the regular season before deciding to “turn it on” during the playoffs. Finishing with a better regular season performance is not always indicative of team quality, as a comparison of last year's Hawks and Celtics would show. Of course, it is questionable whether those teams could have kept it together for a whole season even if the championship format had required them to do so. And acknowledging the reality of this added importance should not lead us to forget about the frail contingencies of matchups and streaky shooting that provide the foundation for many championships (those not of the Fo' Fo' Fo' variety). The results of the playoffs tell us much, but do not tell us all.
This perspective stands in contrast to some mainstream NBA coverage, in which the pursuit of rings has reached an obsession that would make Gollum blush with shame. The way the Miami Heat have been covered and discussed would be far different were it not so. As Kobe Bryant moves closer to winning his sixth championship, the Jordan comparisons become ever more present (and annoying). And as it becomes more unlikely that stars and superstars like Dirk Nowitzki, Steve Nash, Tracy McGrady, Jason Kidd, and Vince Carter will win an NBA title, their careers are judged accordingly. Some, like McGrady and Carter, will be judged harshly, and some, like Nash, will be seen as valiant, but never quite good enough. As long as the current narratives hold, some of these players will be remembered fondly, and won't necessarily even be underrated, but the same sense of tragedy will inevitably pervade our memories of them. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Conceding the possibility that the first championship teams may have been motivated more by their playoff bonuses than any thoughts of ephemeral immortality, it seems impossible not to recognize the impact that “championship mythology” has in the 2011 NBA. Next time, I'll talk about Alpha Dogs and role players and the hierarchical prism through which we tend to view basketball players.
Questions beget questions, often making it difficult to find a suitable starting point. The question, “does the best team usually win the championship” raises the question “how do we judge which team is best” as well as the question “why use a playoff system to determine a champion?” Both questions seem to point to an answer that would include the proposition that head to head matchups are an acceptable solution to the “problem” of determining dominance. Yet even accepting this answer, we we still want to know, “why do we want to determine a champion in the first place?” This leads into all sorts of questions about the nature of competition and competitive sports (are there any other kind of sports?).
Why is the playoff system seemingly omnipresent in professional (and even amateur) sports? One reason for its dominance is money. Ever since team owners realized that people would pay more money to see the best teams play against each other, they have tried to get the best teams in their arenas. Some proof of this theory can be seen in the success of the Harlem Globetrotters, especially in the years before black players starred in the NBA. More proof can be seen in the difference between attendance figures of your average NBA team's home games against the Lakers and the Clippers. As well as featuring quality games, a playoff system adds extra games, and the corresponding extra revenue. There's a reason the gradual trend in professional sports has been towards more games in a season, not less. It is therefore not surprising that the playoffs have assumed such a central role in the sports season when it is in the financial interests of the owners, players, and league(s) that they are so important.
None of this is to suggest that playoff series are meaningless or are not usually won by the best team. What it does show is one reason the focus on the playoffs as the ultimate test of a player (and team's) skill and worth is arbitrary. There is nothing about the game of basketball that inherently demands a playoff system. Furthermore, if one must have a playoff system, why a linear series of head to head matchups instead of a round robin type format? A round robin has the dramatic disadvantages of teams playing games after they have been eliminated, and holds the possibility of one team being eliminated in favor of a team it had defeated. On the other hand, our current system anoints the “best” team as the one that has matched up best against its opponents. Ask the 2007 Mavericks what happens to an excellent team when faced with an inferior team that matches up well against them. (Or, I would argue, the 1995 Jazz.) Whatever the case, it is difficult to make the argument that a few head to head contests provide a better measure of team quality than many games against varied competition.
But surely I would not want to claim that the playoffs do not give us any new information besides a few extra data points tacked on the end of the season. What gives the playoffs their importance? As far as I can tell, the genuine importance of the playoffs comes from the fact that the players attach greater worth to the playoffs than the regular season. What player will say that they try harder in a March game against the Clippers than in Game 7 of the NBA Finals? In extreme form, this can be seen in the success of the 2001 Lakers and 2010 Celtics, who (the popular narrative goes) sleepwalked through much of the regular season before deciding to “turn it on” during the playoffs. Finishing with a better regular season performance is not always indicative of team quality, as a comparison of last year's Hawks and Celtics would show. Of course, it is questionable whether those teams could have kept it together for a whole season even if the championship format had required them to do so. And acknowledging the reality of this added importance should not lead us to forget about the frail contingencies of matchups and streaky shooting that provide the foundation for many championships (those not of the Fo' Fo' Fo' variety). The results of the playoffs tell us much, but do not tell us all.
This perspective stands in contrast to some mainstream NBA coverage, in which the pursuit of rings has reached an obsession that would make Gollum blush with shame. The way the Miami Heat have been covered and discussed would be far different were it not so. As Kobe Bryant moves closer to winning his sixth championship, the Jordan comparisons become ever more present (and annoying). And as it becomes more unlikely that stars and superstars like Dirk Nowitzki, Steve Nash, Tracy McGrady, Jason Kidd, and Vince Carter will win an NBA title, their careers are judged accordingly. Some, like McGrady and Carter, will be judged harshly, and some, like Nash, will be seen as valiant, but never quite good enough. As long as the current narratives hold, some of these players will be remembered fondly, and won't necessarily even be underrated, but the same sense of tragedy will inevitably pervade our memories of them. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Conceding the possibility that the first championship teams may have been motivated more by their playoff bonuses than any thoughts of ephemeral immortality, it seems impossible not to recognize the impact that “championship mythology” has in the 2011 NBA. Next time, I'll talk about Alpha Dogs and role players and the hierarchical prism through which we tend to view basketball players.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Changing Things Up
I'm going to try something a bit different with this blog over the next couple months. I'll continue my "best there ever was" series in abbreviated form, but I want to try writing some longer, more thoughtful pieces. Why? To work on my writing and to look at NBA history from a different angle. Hopefully it'll be interesting, if infrequent.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Waiting For Groza Now On Twitter
Now ignored in two mediums! Seriously, I'm trying Twitter out, and I have no idea if it'll work, or if I'll like it, but I have the same reservations about this blog. Anyway, a post on NBA history will be coming tomorrow since I think I got all of the season preview stuff out of my system, and I'm hoping Twitter will provide me with an outlet for my current NBA thoughts. Also, I'll put the gadget on the sidebar tomorrow.
Thoughts on the NBA, Week One
If I were head coach of the Milwaukee Bucks, my starting lineup would be Andrew Bogut/Luc Richard Mbah a Moute/Corey Maggette/Carlos Delfino/Brandon Jennings. Maggette brings something to the Bucks they didn't have last year; an ultra-efficient 20 PPG scorer that can create his own offense. Meanwhile, Drew Gooden, the Bucks' other major acquisition, has brought a little bit of scoring to go with his customary cringeworthy defense. Bogut should get healthier as the season goes on, so I'm not worried about the team's 0-2 start, but the Bucks' success was built on their defense, and while you can survive with one terrible defender, it's tough to thrive more than that. My proposed lineup has low post scoring (Bogut, Maggette), mid range scoring (Maggette), three point shooting (Delfino, Jennings), free throws (Maggette), passing (Jennings, Bogut, Delfino) interior defense (Bogut, Mbah a Moute), perimeter defense (Jennings), and speed (Jennings, Mbah a Moute).
I can't believe I'm saying this, but the Wolves have the makings of a good team. Michael Beasley has looked impressive so far, and if he can score efficiently, gives Minnesota one of the best forward tandems in the league. The other half of that tandem, Kevin Love, is probably the best rebounder in the league, and will be an All-Star if he gets enough playing time. Through the first two games, Luke Ridnour is playing as if last year's improvement was not a fluke, and they have a decent collection of role players. However, I don't know how many wins this will translate into, as Kurt Rambis doesn't want to play the team's best player (24 and 27 minutes in the first two games for Love), which is the type of thing that tends to hurt a team.
Here's hoping Stephen Curry gets healthy soon. The Warriors offense is almost unstoppable right now, especially with Monta Ellis rediscovering his efficiency. There is no way Golden State will shoot this well all season, but it's fun to watch while it lasts, and they will be one of the best shooting teams in the league. At the same time, the defense looks highly problematic. They gave up 128 points to a team starting two defensive specialists on the second night of a back to back, and their backup center is Dan Gadzuric.
Chris Paul was amazing in the Hornets opener. His line (17 points, 16 assists, 1 turnover) was impressive enough, but watching the game, it was even more impressive to see how many open shots he created for his teammates. The Hornets being the Hornets, they missed a fair amount of those wide open shots, but David West played well (9-14 from the field), and New Orleans won.
Watching their first two games, it looked like the Rockets needed two things; a point guard that could play defense, and a center that could block shots and rebound. Houston will get #1 when Kyle Lowry (whose praise I have sung on these pages before) returns this week, and they just signed Erick Dampier to give them another 7 footer to spell Yao. Also, Luis Scola and Kevin Martin are a fantastic inside-outside combination, even if they both look incredibly awkward at times.
I can't believe I'm saying this, but the Wolves have the makings of a good team. Michael Beasley has looked impressive so far, and if he can score efficiently, gives Minnesota one of the best forward tandems in the league. The other half of that tandem, Kevin Love, is probably the best rebounder in the league, and will be an All-Star if he gets enough playing time. Through the first two games, Luke Ridnour is playing as if last year's improvement was not a fluke, and they have a decent collection of role players. However, I don't know how many wins this will translate into, as Kurt Rambis doesn't want to play the team's best player (24 and 27 minutes in the first two games for Love), which is the type of thing that tends to hurt a team.
Here's hoping Stephen Curry gets healthy soon. The Warriors offense is almost unstoppable right now, especially with Monta Ellis rediscovering his efficiency. There is no way Golden State will shoot this well all season, but it's fun to watch while it lasts, and they will be one of the best shooting teams in the league. At the same time, the defense looks highly problematic. They gave up 128 points to a team starting two defensive specialists on the second night of a back to back, and their backup center is Dan Gadzuric.
Chris Paul was amazing in the Hornets opener. His line (17 points, 16 assists, 1 turnover) was impressive enough, but watching the game, it was even more impressive to see how many open shots he created for his teammates. The Hornets being the Hornets, they missed a fair amount of those wide open shots, but David West played well (9-14 from the field), and New Orleans won.
Watching their first two games, it looked like the Rockets needed two things; a point guard that could play defense, and a center that could block shots and rebound. Houston will get #1 when Kyle Lowry (whose praise I have sung on these pages before) returns this week, and they just signed Erick Dampier to give them another 7 footer to spell Yao. Also, Luis Scola and Kevin Martin are a fantastic inside-outside combination, even if they both look incredibly awkward at times.
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