My Thoughts on Jeremy Lin The Day After

Several years ago there was a piece about the oft-maligned Allen Iverson that, in essence, argued that he should be appreciated more because he can be identified with. At the time, he was as significant an NBA superstar as his contemporaries like Shaquille O’Neal or Kobe Bryant. However, Shaq (standing at 7-foot-1, 325 lbs.) and Kobe (6-foot-7, 205) have physical gifts that are not often found in the general population. Not that Iverson wasn’t physically gifted, because he was, but at six feet (and there were whispers of him standing even shorter than that) he was the kind of guy that we see every single day. No, it didn’t mean that the best guy at your rec league had the potential to be an NBA superstar, but credit had to be given A.I. for having great success as a man amongst giants.

Jeremy Lin deserves appreciation for being something of an everyman, himself. Yet, this time, it has nothing to do with his height or strength. No, this one is all about color and perception. Well, I shouldn’t say all, because if Lin were Black, his incredible play over this past week would still be a huge story, it just wouldn’t be important. This is entertaining to folks because it is unexpected to see an undrafted benchwarmer show that he has what it takes to excel in the Association, but it’s meaningful because it shatters the unflattering expectations that people have (had?) about Asian-Americans in sports and, frankly, beyond. In addition to the raucous cheering at MSG, there were camera shots of a few fans looking solemn and pleased–I imagine that these people were feeling a ton of pride at the moment because Jeremy Lin was zooming by a cultural milestone like it was Derek Fisher frozen in the paint.

Personally, I needed to tune in to that Knicks/Lakers game because it was going to be pivotal. Would Lin lead his team to victory and (more importantly) have an excellent individual performance and continue to forcibly change minds about what color people are capable of any particular accomplishment? Or would he have an average performance, thereby negating his prior success as simply an aberration and further cementing the negative stereotypes about Asian-Americans in sports and demolishing the opportunity that anyone looking like him would ever have in professional sports ever again? It may seem crazy, but I honestly think that kind of pressure existed on Friday night. And, for the haters, there would be no excuses for failure even though many valid ones existed. Fatigue? Check. Crappy supporting cast? Check. Competing against a backcourt that had won five NBA championships, and featuring one of the ten best players of all-time? Oh, and don’t forget two seven-footers in the paint and a former Defensive Player of the Year. Umm…yeah. It was almost comical. Yet, as anyone who watched the game, pumped his or her fist, or shouted “Oh shit!” multiple times at a television screen while viewing knows, the guy came through with flying colors. It was more than a passing grade; it was the highest possible score on what was probably the most difficult exam of his life. Unreal. And I’m insanely…check that–Linsanely happy to have witnessed it.

 

Throwaway Thanksgiving Weekend

What have I been thinking about lately…?

The weekend — hmm…it wasn’t the greatest. Thanksgiving dinner was fine on Thursday but after that the days were kinda blah. The holiday screwed with my internal calendar, so all day Friday I thought it was Saturday. Thinking this, I arrived at the card shop at 3pm, four and a half hours before anyone would show for a draft. I had nothing else to do (this would be a running theme for the weekend) so I stayed through one round of the draft but then dropped. I had lost, anyway, and was pretty weary at that point. Silver lining: I did get to learn and play Quarriors, a cool dice game, while hanging out at the shop. Maybe I’ll buy it to take to Korea.

I had mentally prepared to go over and see Jen and Dan’s place for their post-Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday, but it was the same day my Dad would head back to Michigan and I didn’t want to skip out on him. Problem is, my Dad can be a serious couch potato when he’s on vacation. I love the man and respect him and I know he works hard, but sometimes he just wants to park it–ALL DAY. By the time I got back home from driving him for his flight it was after 10pm. Not impossible to go out, but not when there’s no plan. Just a lethargic-feeling day through and through.

Kane messaged me Saturday night to check if I was going to the big picnic in Alameda the next day. I told him I’d decide in the morning. I was still feeling sluggish and bored from the weekend and I knew I ought to go, but wasn’t really feeling it. Sunday morning, I felt the same way but I psyched myself can let Kane know I was getting ready to go to the picnic. It was only 12 hours later, but now Kane wasn’t going. I thought perhaps he was trying to avoid Angie, but he said they’d had a conversation the night before and he just wasn’t up to going even though she wouldn’t make it, either. I can’t even pretend to understand what they’re going through. Eight years together (maybe longer, I don’t know), a ton of the same friends, being together, living together and, all of a sudden it’s over. What can you even do? Flip around and date someone else and feel hella guilty about it? Keep talking to her to understand where she’s coming from and/or try to fix the problem and feel like a sucker if she’s not having it? Or just become a zombie, going through the motions without any real interaction and unsure what to do next? How long does it take to snap back to life? It’s really sort of nightmarish.

Anyway, without the picnic, without anything resembling a decent movies in the theatre (seriously, LOOK at the shit films that are out! This is why I haven’t been to the movies in months) and without much else coming to mind, I took myself to the most entertainment-packed place I could find: Target.

Poor selection is understating it.

Walking through the store, I did find and purchase The Hunger Games, so I’ll be getting my teen fiction on. Ate at Five Guys though I shouldn’t have; that makes Giant Burgers, Jack-in-the-Box and Five Guys all in one week. Add Thanksgiving eating and no exercise and I can literally see myself getting to a state in which I don’t want to be. Credit to myself, though, because I can recognize when I’m in a rut. Mission Peak tomorrow morning and doing some productive things in the yard ought to get me back on track and help me put this not bad, but just forgetful weekend behind me.

I’ve decided to list a few positive things from the weekend since I reread this blog post and it kinda needs some spirit.

– They played Magic Man by Heart at Five Guys. That was cool

– Listening to Mayer Hawthorne and those Michael Jackson piano tracks on Spotify has been cool.

– Oh shit, the NBA lockout is gonna end. A rushed, 66-game schedule is gonna make this season very unpredictable. If a second-tier team like Atlanta, New York or Memphis got hot and won the title this year, I wouldn’t be completely surprised.

– And you know what? Lest I seem spoiled from complaining about all of this ultimately meaningless shit, I’m still good and life is copacetic. And isn’t that the most important positive?

 

Finals Talk

Alright, congratulations to the Spurs for getting the Game 7 victory over Detroit and winning the title. San Antonio was the consensus favorite at the beginning of the year (especially when they got Barry) and they rolled fairly easily through the playoffs until they hit the Pistons.

Last year, the Lakers were also the consensus favorite because they had that dynamite starting lineup although, in retrospect, people seemed to forget that Karl Malone and Gary Payton were each about 20 years past their respective primes. Plus, they’re both jackasses. Anyway, when the Pistons actually showed up to play the 2004 Finals instead of being starstruck, the Lakers folded; all of the Pistons victories were blowouts and they wrapped it up in five games. Astonishing. That series, I believe, marked a shift in the NBA that closed the era of the superstar and began the era of the team.

It’s not so much a charisma or marketing thing, but rather a coaching and system thing. This year, Phoenix ran a system where everyone was involved and was a potential scoring threat (everyone has to be dangerous when your team combines to score 110ppg). Detroit continued their defense-oriented style, but they spread it around also, resulting in their leading scorer averaging less than 20ppg. And the Spurs, of course, have a superstar, but his job isn’t to proxy for the entire team. Last year, Kevin Garnett played the role of the Minnesota Timberwolves in the playoffs. When Troy Hudson and Sam Cassell got hurt it was the 7-footer playing point guard, firing clutch 3s and willing the team through the game. I’m not criticizing Garnett, who plays with more heart and hustle than anyone this side of Allen Iverson, but it is a clear contrast in styles. The old style is to rely on KG or Shaq or Jordan or Sir Charles…the new style is that everyone does a little something.

I think this is why it was so difficult to pick a Finals MVP last year. Chauncey Billups kinda won it by default. This year it is a bit easier because Tim Duncan was the decisionmaker (though not from the point guard position). He scored those 12 or 14 in the third quarter and he found Bowen and Ginobili for those gamebreaking threes in the fourth. Add to that the automatic double-double and not choking at the foul line and the choice becomes clear. I still can’t stand the Spurs and I can’t wait until the GS Ruff Ryderz meet the Knicks in the Finals, but one must appreciate how they gutted through the seven-gamer where the Lakers fell apart. Detroit was incredible, also. If they keep it up, maybe they can pull a Spurs East and win multiple titles, just not consecutively. Absolutely no shame in that.