Isiah Thomas is an idiot. Not just that he ain't afraid to call a bitch a bitch, knows a ho from a ho, and don't give a fuck about no white people. But the league's most brainless GM just continues to get it wrong. After earning plenty of misguided plaudits for his early-draft-night trade of Steve Francis and Channing Frye for Zach Randolph, Dan Dickau, and Fred Jones, Isiah's moves thereafter have been indefensible.
In the second round of this year's draft, Thomas made another deal with Portland; acquiring 53rd-overall selection Demetris Nichols from the Blazers for a 2008 second-rounder. Aside from the fact that Nichols —a jump-shooting, skinny small-forward— seemed to duplicate the skill-set of the Knicks' first-rounder Wilson Chandler —a jump-shooting, skinny small-forward— nearly exactly, the trade was curious for the fact that the Knicks had roughly 20 players, nine of them small-forwards, on the roster at the time.
It seems that, in hindsight, Thomas was hoping to convince Nichols to go spend a year or so playing in Europe, where he could develop at the cost of another organisation; returning when, the hope goes, New York's logjam of a roster had cleared up. Only Nichols had the temerity to show up, trying to earn the roster spot Isiah wasn't holding open for him.
Even though, at that point, the roster seemed overloaded, Thomas wouldn't stop tinkering. On September 30, on the eve of training camp, he acquired rookie point-guard Jared Jordan —a pass-first, pasty-skinned point guard— from the Clippers for cash considerations. This came after the Knicks had bought out the remainder of the contract of Dan Dickau —a pass-first, pasty-skinned point guard— who would then turn around and sign with, uh, the Clippers.
This sort-of-trade of whiteboy PGs clearly confused Zeke; as, on October 15, after a Knicks practice, he said: "I think Dickau is going to be a good player on our team when he's healthy"; even though Dickau never even made it training camp. Damn those crackers, my nigga. They all look the same.
Having given up cash for Jordan, and next year's second rounder for Nichols, you'd imagine that both guys would've ended up on the final 15-man roster. Sure, they'd spend all year in the NBDL, most likely, but it's always nice to develop young guys. And yet, both youngsters were cut. Free to go elsewhere. Unwanted by the Knicks.
Remaining on the roster, however, is one Jerome James. Since being inked up by —who else?— one Isiah Thomas, the colossal free-agent bust has only been notable for one thing: averaging 12.8 fouls per 48 minutes. Last year, in his few fleeting appearances for the Knicks, the morbidly-obese, 7'3 behemoth committed 73 fouls whilst scoring just 76 points; hitting 41.8% from the floor despite his close proximity to the basket. Though he may've had a few mediocre 5-and-4 type years in Seattle, James is clearly done. Forever injured, rarely motivated, raking in an obscene amount of money, and soon to turn 32 years old, James should've been a camp casualty.
Maybe James wouldn't have left for anything less than the $18mil still left on his three remaining years, but, given the Knicks are already shelling out obscene amounts of money to pay for overpaid players past and present and/or sexually-harrassed former employees, couldn't this cash've been rustled up from the seemingly unending Dolan coffers? Wouldn't it have been good karma/PR/chemistry to lose the fat loser, and give a likely kid a chance?
If it were just a matter of money, that kind of feigned 'accountability' is a sham. We've all witnessed how little Isiah has been held accountable for his past string of blown trades, bad contracts, and cap-crippling roster management. Not to mention his apparent complete disregard for human decency. He surely isn't being held accountable for wasting a possibly-pretty-decent second-rounder and 'cash considerations' just to bring in two guys who always seemed on the outside of the numbers game looking in, and didn't even make the roster. And, still, Thomas isn't being held accountable for being a complete and utter idiot.
Showing posts with label New York Knicks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York Knicks. Show all posts
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
The Boxscore Watchin'!: Day One.
Whilst there've been a couple of boxscores trickling over from Europe already, t'day marked the beginning of the preseason schedule, in earnest; meaning there were numerous games, numerous stories, and numerous lessons to learn. To the roundup!:
DAVID LEE, ISIAH'S SECOND-LEAST HATED WHITE PERSON (BEHIND JAMES DOLAN)!
Dearest Zekeypoo: I know it's been a difficult summer, and all, what with trying to work out the logistics of that weird Dan Dickau/Jared Jordan trade thing, and trying to sketch together the details of Jerome James's potential buyout, and trying to psych out Demetris Nichols into playing in Italy rather than daring to show up, and trying to find out Zach Randolph's whereabouts on the eve of camp, and trying to find a taker for Jared Jeffries and that stupid contract you signed him to last year, and trying to clarify the distinctions between men of different ethnicities using the word 'bitch' in reference to women of different ethnicities (and, whilst I've got you here, it's been bugging me all week: what if a half-Japanese, half-Kurdish man calls a half-Hawai'ian, half-Tibetan woman a bitch?), and trying to work out whether the phrase "very, very innocent" actually makes linguistic sense, and trying to come up with an offensive scheme that can possibly involve both Zach Randolph and Eddy Curry at the same time, but, I was wondering, over this long, hot, finally-over summer —the summer of intern love!— have you found a way to get David Lee on the court more than 29 minutes a game? Other than, y’know, hoping Eddy (No, not Whoopi Goldberg, silly! That guy with the heart defect!) injures his shoulder in training camp? I noticed you played Lee 31 minutes in tonight’s meaningless preseason game. Meaning, once the stakes get higher, he’s surely gonna play more, right? Like, you’re pretty much not going to sit him at all, no? Given how he’s, y’know, the team’s best player, and best defensive player, and best rebounder, and best off-the-ball player, and best passer on the nights when Stephon’s not quite ‘in the game’, and best hustler, and best source-of-inspiration, and best loved by the crowd. You’re not going to bench him in favour of, say, running Curry and Randolph together, endlessly, pig-headedly, even though it’s clear they’re not gelling, are you? Or bench him to try and ‘showcase’ James or Jeffries or Malik Rose for a trade that’ll never come, right? I’m sorry to ask. These questions are so dumb and obvious, but, for some reason, I feel the need to check in with you, just to make sure we’re on the same page. I know we are. I don’t give a fuck about white people, too. Even ones that average double-doubles in minutes limited only by coaching idiocy. Love, Stan, Your Biggest Fan.
J.J. REDICK, ALSO WHITE!
The other day I, in all my prognosticatory wisdom, spent whole paragraphs detailing why JJ Redick was a piss-in for fantasy-friendly role-player this season, breaking down the statistical reasons that everyone’s most favouritest ever Dookie would be a beloved addition to any final-round-picking fantasy squadron. Whilst tonight didn’t prove me wrong —30 minutes, 10 points, 1/3 threes— it did make me realise something that I should’ve thought of well before I ever committed those words to, uh, print (browser?). Cheering for JJ Redick is as much fun as you’d imagine. My public-declaration of Redick’s potential makes me feel like I should be pulling/rooting/other-double-entendres for him already, given that positive results would only validate my beliefs, and my opinions, and the very existence of this weblog. Yet, after one game, I’m wishing my own fantasy draft/s will roll around, so I can have people other than JJ to cheer for (I mean, other than just Eddie House). Like, last year, in one league, I drafted Mike Dunleavy Jr. Whilst his eventual output ended up justifying his selection, there was not a single day in the entire season when I felt excited to be owning Lil’ Dunny. Not to mention that every one of the 450-odd trades I proposed with Junior as part of the package were rejected with an Eatonesque viciousness by opposing GMs. Apparently, this painful life-lesson taught me nothing at all; for already I have talked myself into owning JJ Redick(!!!) for the forthcoming fantasy season. Thankfully, today’s boxscore watching has made me wake up to the obvious: to own the most abhorrent sporting poet this side of Stu Scott would be an utterly joyless experience, from day one.
MIAMI RUNS OUT D-LEAGUE SQUAD!
Ladies and gentleman, Michael Doleac! In the absence of Shaquille O'Neal, Udonis Haslem, Antoine Walker, Dwyane Wade, Smush Parker --a quintet that, you'd guess, will end up starting at least one game together, as five-man-unit, this season-- and top reserve Alonzo Mourning, Doleac was the only Riley-friendly member of the Del Boca Vista Heat's senior's circuit that hit the court; the Shufflin' Ute looking like he was working off about three years worth of rust in a (futile) attempt to prove he's more than just one big expiring contract with a blonde buzzcut. With the actual, y’know, team absent, Rilezzz actually got to trot out some limbre young legs in Miami's opening run; an 86-103, intensity-lacking pasting at the hands of the Pistons that was over early. Meaning, Daequan Cook actually got on the court; something that, rest assured, won't happen once the season begins. Whilst Dorell Wright, of course!, impressed in his game-high 31 minutes --9 points, 4 rebounds, 5 assists, 2 steals, 3 blocks-- the rest of the roster resembled guys gunning it in a glorified open tryout; the Heat having less NBA-calibre talent on the floor than last April's Milwaukee Bucks. In regards to such: Marcus Slaughter got a jump on playing his way into one of the vacant roster-spots, and tiny Brian Chase looked roughly a dozen times better than Chris Quinn, the babyfaced Irishman who rather looks a dead roster-spot walking. A question for another day: how on earth did Chris Quinn get an NBA shot, whilst Chris Thomas never did? Oh, and, PS: Penny Hardaway = DNP-CD.
NO-NECK JOHNSON, WORST PLAYER TO EVER SCORE 40 IN A PLAYOFF GAME!
Not that there’s anything wrong with being the Hawks’ fourth-string point-guard, or going 0/5 with 0 assists in 10 pre-season minutes, or, for that matter, in having no neck, but, um, could it really have only been 17 months ago that No-Neck Johnson was hanging 40 points on Jason Kidd’s large head in a playoff game? Wha’ Happened? The guy who was stumbling, stiff-legged, about for Atlanta tonight looked like he’d have trouble scoring 40 points in a one-on-none game, let alone someone who can be counted on for ever coming close to that, ever again, in an NBA game. With Speedy Claxton roughly five minutes away from his latest broken bone, and Acie Law IV seeming like a rather suspect lottery selection, once more Atlanta fans, in their teeming dozens, are anxiously awaiting the return of Tyronn Lue.
DAVID LEE, ISIAH'S SECOND-LEAST HATED WHITE PERSON (BEHIND JAMES DOLAN)!
Dearest Zekeypoo: I know it's been a difficult summer, and all, what with trying to work out the logistics of that weird Dan Dickau/Jared Jordan trade thing, and trying to sketch together the details of Jerome James's potential buyout, and trying to psych out Demetris Nichols into playing in Italy rather than daring to show up, and trying to find out Zach Randolph's whereabouts on the eve of camp, and trying to find a taker for Jared Jeffries and that stupid contract you signed him to last year, and trying to clarify the distinctions between men of different ethnicities using the word 'bitch' in reference to women of different ethnicities (and, whilst I've got you here, it's been bugging me all week: what if a half-Japanese, half-Kurdish man calls a half-Hawai'ian, half-Tibetan woman a bitch?), and trying to work out whether the phrase "very, very innocent" actually makes linguistic sense, and trying to come up with an offensive scheme that can possibly involve both Zach Randolph and Eddy Curry at the same time, but, I was wondering, over this long, hot, finally-over summer —the summer of intern love!— have you found a way to get David Lee on the court more than 29 minutes a game? Other than, y’know, hoping Eddy (No, not Whoopi Goldberg, silly! That guy with the heart defect!) injures his shoulder in training camp? I noticed you played Lee 31 minutes in tonight’s meaningless preseason game. Meaning, once the stakes get higher, he’s surely gonna play more, right? Like, you’re pretty much not going to sit him at all, no? Given how he’s, y’know, the team’s best player, and best defensive player, and best rebounder, and best off-the-ball player, and best passer on the nights when Stephon’s not quite ‘in the game’, and best hustler, and best source-of-inspiration, and best loved by the crowd. You’re not going to bench him in favour of, say, running Curry and Randolph together, endlessly, pig-headedly, even though it’s clear they’re not gelling, are you? Or bench him to try and ‘showcase’ James or Jeffries or Malik Rose for a trade that’ll never come, right? I’m sorry to ask. These questions are so dumb and obvious, but, for some reason, I feel the need to check in with you, just to make sure we’re on the same page. I know we are. I don’t give a fuck about white people, too. Even ones that average double-doubles in minutes limited only by coaching idiocy. Love, Stan, Your Biggest Fan.
J.J. REDICK, ALSO WHITE!
The other day I, in all my prognosticatory wisdom, spent whole paragraphs detailing why JJ Redick was a piss-in for fantasy-friendly role-player this season, breaking down the statistical reasons that everyone’s most favouritest ever Dookie would be a beloved addition to any final-round-picking fantasy squadron. Whilst tonight didn’t prove me wrong —30 minutes, 10 points, 1/3 threes— it did make me realise something that I should’ve thought of well before I ever committed those words to, uh, print (browser?). Cheering for JJ Redick is as much fun as you’d imagine. My public-declaration of Redick’s potential makes me feel like I should be pulling/rooting/other-double-entendres for him already, given that positive results would only validate my beliefs, and my opinions, and the very existence of this weblog. Yet, after one game, I’m wishing my own fantasy draft/s will roll around, so I can have people other than JJ to cheer for (I mean, other than just Eddie House). Like, last year, in one league, I drafted Mike Dunleavy Jr. Whilst his eventual output ended up justifying his selection, there was not a single day in the entire season when I felt excited to be owning Lil’ Dunny. Not to mention that every one of the 450-odd trades I proposed with Junior as part of the package were rejected with an Eatonesque viciousness by opposing GMs. Apparently, this painful life-lesson taught me nothing at all; for already I have talked myself into owning JJ Redick(!!!) for the forthcoming fantasy season. Thankfully, today’s boxscore watching has made me wake up to the obvious: to own the most abhorrent sporting poet this side of Stu Scott would be an utterly joyless experience, from day one.
MIAMI RUNS OUT D-LEAGUE SQUAD!
Ladies and gentleman, Michael Doleac! In the absence of Shaquille O'Neal, Udonis Haslem, Antoine Walker, Dwyane Wade, Smush Parker --a quintet that, you'd guess, will end up starting at least one game together, as five-man-unit, this season-- and top reserve Alonzo Mourning, Doleac was the only Riley-friendly member of the Del Boca Vista Heat's senior's circuit that hit the court; the Shufflin' Ute looking like he was working off about three years worth of rust in a (futile) attempt to prove he's more than just one big expiring contract with a blonde buzzcut. With the actual, y’know, team absent, Rilezzz actually got to trot out some limbre young legs in Miami's opening run; an 86-103, intensity-lacking pasting at the hands of the Pistons that was over early. Meaning, Daequan Cook actually got on the court; something that, rest assured, won't happen once the season begins. Whilst Dorell Wright, of course!, impressed in his game-high 31 minutes --9 points, 4 rebounds, 5 assists, 2 steals, 3 blocks-- the rest of the roster resembled guys gunning it in a glorified open tryout; the Heat having less NBA-calibre talent on the floor than last April's Milwaukee Bucks. In regards to such: Marcus Slaughter got a jump on playing his way into one of the vacant roster-spots, and tiny Brian Chase looked roughly a dozen times better than Chris Quinn, the babyfaced Irishman who rather looks a dead roster-spot walking. A question for another day: how on earth did Chris Quinn get an NBA shot, whilst Chris Thomas never did? Oh, and, PS: Penny Hardaway = DNP-CD.
NO-NECK JOHNSON, WORST PLAYER TO EVER SCORE 40 IN A PLAYOFF GAME!
Not that there’s anything wrong with being the Hawks’ fourth-string point-guard, or going 0/5 with 0 assists in 10 pre-season minutes, or, for that matter, in having no neck, but, um, could it really have only been 17 months ago that No-Neck Johnson was hanging 40 points on Jason Kidd’s large head in a playoff game? Wha’ Happened? The guy who was stumbling, stiff-legged, about for Atlanta tonight looked like he’d have trouble scoring 40 points in a one-on-none game, let alone someone who can be counted on for ever coming close to that, ever again, in an NBA game. With Speedy Claxton roughly five minutes away from his latest broken bone, and Acie Law IV seeming like a rather suspect lottery selection, once more Atlanta fans, in their teeming dozens, are anxiously awaiting the return of Tyronn Lue.
Monday, October 8, 2007
The Alarm-Bells Sound!
Halt! Do you hear them ringing? The alarm bells? Pay heed, Fantasy GMs, and listen to the woe foretold in every toll, listen to the warning sound bewarning thee of these harbingers of boxscore-checking doom. Every year, many formerly-productive fantasy players are drafted, owners believing that these known names bring with them guarantees of statistical glee. Yet, as any wise drafter knows, heeding the advanced signs of players on the wane is one of the great keys to assembling any potent lineup. So, behold! The alarm-bells sound for thee! Draft these behex’d ballers at your very peril!
RICKY DAVIS, Timberwolves.
Beware the unhappy vet on the rebuilding roster. Beware the guy who’ll spend the year in perpetual trade-rumours. Beware Ricky Davis, a headcase whose recent run of solid fantasy seasons should come to an end as the Timberwolves invest minutes in Gerald Green, Corey Brewer, Rashad McCants, and Ryan Gomes, assumedly give Greg Buckner some court time in an attempt to show trading for him was no mere salary dump, and continue to play Marko Jaric in the vain attempt to convince someone to take on that contract in a trade. To call Minnesota overloaded on the wings is to call Minneapolis cold. I’ve already talked up Mo Peterson’s bounce-back capabilities, now that he’s walking into a wide-open situation in New Orleans; but the recent rise-fall(-rise?) chart of Peterson’s career is analogous to Davis. As in: Ricky Davis is, like Mo Pete a few years back, a genuine fantasy force; a guy who’s averaged 18.1 PPG, 4.2 RPG, 4.9 APG, 1.0 SPG, and 98 threes over the past two seasons, on two different teams to boot. Yet, Davis’s productivity has been wholly dependent on the minutes he’s played; he having averaged 39.1 MPG the past couple seasons. What would happen if Davis averaged, say, 20 minutes a game this coming campaign? That, my friend, is an excellent question. Whilst every fantasy geek loves extrapolating small samples out into per-40-minute averages, few do it in the other direction. Because you get depressing results like this: Ricky Davis’s per-20-minute averages over the last two seasons: 9.2 PPG, 2.0 RPG, 2.5 APG, 0.5 SPG, with 51 threes. If you’re scoffing ‘yeah, but Davis isn’t going to get only 20 minutes per’, think back to our old pal Mo Pete. Last year, Peterson found himself on a team that was going in another direction. The Raptors had brought in Anthony Parker, Fred Jones, and TJ Ford, and damn sure if they weren’t going to play them. Peterson, in the last year of his deal and not part of the future plans, found his minutes slashed; going from a robust 38.1 to a paltry 21.1 minutes per. This year, Davis is the veteran on a young team heading in another direction. He’s the guy in the last year of his contract. He’s the cat who’s going to watch on as a bunch of other ex-Celtics get minutes ahead of him. He’s a guy who I wouldn’t want to draft onto my fantasy squad. And, yet, Yahoo!’s default rankings still have him at #55. Yikes.
JARRETT JACK, Trailblazers.
I’ve always liked Jarrett Jack’s game. Big, strong, defensively-aggressive, and blessed with a genuine point-guard mentality, Jack is an impressive, evidently hard-working young guy. I, once, actually saw Jack on the street in Portland, back in August 2005, not long after he’d been drafted. I almost wanted to stop and tell him that he was surely going to beat out Bassy Telfair for a job (but, of course, didn't). Such a claim didn’t exactly unfold so, entirely, in his rookie year, but by last season, Jack had clearly emerged as Nate McMillan’s chosen young point; perhaps helped by the fact that Jack surely reminded Coach Nate of himself, back in his playing days up the I-5. On the year, Jack quarterbacked the Blazers to the tune of 12.0 PPG, 2.6 RPG, 5.3 APG, 1.1 SPG. If you limit those numbers to the 56 games he played 30+ minutes (ie. the ones in which he was given decent burn), Jack’s returns were a very solid 14.1 PPG, 2.7 RPG, 5.8 APG, and 1.3 SPG. Yet, coming into this season, it hardly seems as if Jack is entrenched as the first option at the point. Firstly, the ever-flashy Sergio Rodriguez generated some mighty impressive passing statistics, and actual optimism, amongst the Blazers’ glum faithful last season. When the off-season came, Paul Allen and Kevin Pritchard apparently held the same perception; Rodriguez being, apparently, thought of as off-limits, whilst Jack was dangled as trade-bait, in hopes of getting another lottery pick to go with the #1 one. That didn’t happen, but later in the draft Portland bought off one of Phoenix’s annually-raffled late-first-rounders, and used it to pick Rodriguez’s Spanish backcourt buddy Rudy Fernández, with whom Spanish Chocolate already has incredibly chemistry (on the Spanish World Championship-winning team of last year, they subbed in together as high-energy reserves, changing up the pace from the Calderón/Navarro starting unit). When draft night ticked over into the second round, Pritchard picked Taurean Green, fresh off running point on a couple Gators’ championship squads. Oh, and, then, they brought back former Blazer Steve Blake, signed as a free-agent after earning some quality burn alongside The Answer in the Nuggets’ lineup late last season. Meaning, Jack is now one of four PGs jockeying for minutes at the helm of the Blazers; McMillan having already talked up both Blake and Green to the media in the past week. Given he’s not the kind of guy who can star in limited minutes, I’d think any reduction in Jack’s burn would kill any chance of him being a meaningful fantasy contributor this coming season. Meaning: dark and difficult times lie ahead.
ANTHONY PARKER, Raptors.
Anthony ‘Don’t Call Me Tony’ Parker was, in a strictly basketball sense, a fantastic addition for the Raptors last season; an athletic, veteran two-guard who could D up the opposing team’s top wing, provide veteran stability, and help cultivate the ‘European’ atmosphere being dreamt of by the League’s only North-of-the-Border survivors. Along with sweaty Spaniard Jorge Garbajosa, Parker was a huge reason the chemistry and culture of the Raps changed into something magical; he contributing mightily to a season that ended up, unexpectedly, in the playoffs. There, Parker played his best ball of the year; barely leaving the court as he averaged 15 a night, and got up in My Cousin Vinny’s frowny-faced grill. Those who watched Parker play in the postseason may not think much is untoward with his #70 Yahoo! ranking; Parker having earnt such via his refined three-point stroke (44.1%) and solid numbers. But, on closer inspection, I think you’ll find his hat is made of out liquorice. Like so many SGs, Parker does little more than score; he averaging just 4 rebounds and 2 assists a contest. But, as his 12.4 PPG may attest, Parker doesn’t even score that much; he posting only seven 20-point games on the entire year. If he were just maintaining the status-quo, Parker could be a half-decent, no-risk pick in the last round, perhaps, but here’s the thing: the Raptors went out in the off-season and acquired Carlos Delfino and Jason Kapono, meaning that the 33 minutes per that Parker played last year may not be a total he matches this season. Especially given that Jose Calderón and TJ Ford should be on the floor, together, at the same time far more this season. In today’s exhibition match against Lottomatica Roma, for example, Mitchell stuck almost wholly to what’ll be his regular ten-man rotation —including playing stud big-man Chris Bosh 30 minutes— and Parker got on the court for but 20 minutes. The result? 5 points, 3 rebounds, 2 assists. Add it all up, and Parker comes close to ‘do not draft’ status.
ZACH RANDOLPH, Knicks.
It’s hard for a guy who averaged 23 and 10 to be thought of as a mediocre fantasy player, yet Zach Randolph was just that last season. Despite doing a lot of scoring —and a lot of shooting— Randolph’s career-high points didn’t end up adding up to much. Mostly, because of his Eddy Curry-esque abilities at filling out the rest of the boxscore. Last year, Randolph’s assists, steals, and blocks combined to equal a 1:1 ratio, exctly; 215 each. Randolph was hardly helped by the fact that he can’t get off the floor; his 15 blocked shots a tally worse than (insert tiny guard here) clocked on the season. Or, if you can’t be bothered finding your own funny name: Luke Ridnour, Kirk Hinrich, Jamaal Tinsley, Ben Gordon, and, oh yes, the gingeriffic Brian Scalabrine. In a comedy boon, Randolph is now taking his Eddy Curry-esque game away from the safe confines of the Rose Garden to be booed at MSG, playing alongside, uhh, Eddy Curry. And I, for one, can see it only being a disaster. Remember what happened when Isiah, in all his wisdom, paired Stephon ‘in the truck’ Marbury with Stevie ‘ironically nicknamed’ Franchise? The two guys duplicated skill-sets exactly, making the other redundant. They played poorly when on the floor together, and, when one of them was on the bench, the benched one pouted. Randolph and Curry aren’t quite as sour as either of those little men, but some time on the pine could change that. I can’t see how the two can co-exist. They both demand the ball on the block, and are veritable black-holes when it’s thrown to them. As their assist/turnover ratios show, when doubled, neither of them are crisp with the exit passes. So, when one of them is going to work on the block, the other will be standing and watching. Though Randolph’s rebounds are far superior to Curry’s, he’s not the kind of guy who’s going to work away from the ball; and Curry certainly isn’t. David Lee —one of the very finest young basketballers in all the association— is the perfect guy to play foil to either of these wide-bodied behemoths, but, due possibly to the fact that Isiah don’t give a fuck about white people, Lee was a curious casualty of the Knicks’ front-court minutes-squeeze last year; even though any sane person could see that keeping him off the court for the work of Jared Jeffries/Channing Frye made no sense at all. So, assumedly, Isiah the Coach, insistently out to prove that Isiah the GM makes no mistakes, will be bull-headed enough to play Curry and Randolph as the two-headed monster. Whilst Curry’s value is the one likely to truly plummet —although, given how low his fantasy output is, I’m not sure plummeting is even possible— there’s no doubt that Randolph is due to take a major hit. Whereas, last year, he was playing in a lineup stacked with defensive role-players like Jarrett Jack, Ime Udoka, and Joel Przybilla, this year he’s coming to a Knicks club quarterbacked by Marbury, Nate Robinson, and Jamal Crawford. Last year, with Brandon Roy missing so much time, Randolph was Portland’s 1 and 2 option most nights. This year, he’s fighting for his shots. It’d be no surprise for his numbers to fall back to their 05/06 totals: 18.0 and 8.0; and it’d hardly be a shock for them to tumble lower, a victim of the caustic chemistry of the Thomas-era Knicks. Given such, and given the holes in the rest of his statistical game, Randolph can only be seen as a total draft risk this fantasy season; certainly not worthy of the fifth-round selection most have him pegged as being.
ROBERT SWIFT, Sonics.
Whether it’s been simply fuelled by the high-comedy value that comes from drafting the flaming redhead, Robert Swift has gathered some momentum, heading into the season, as a great late-round flyer, a potential starting centre who can be picked up as a late-round gamble. But I just don’t see it. Whilst I’m well-aware that Swift flashed plenty of potential as a second-year player (when he averaged 6.4 PPG and 5.6 RPG in just 21 minutes a night), that was two seasons and two coaches ago. This year, Swift —fresh off of sitting out an entire year with an ACL injury— is coming into a crowded frontcourt; one filled with not just incumbents Nick Collison and Chris Wilcox, but newly-added veteran Kurt Thomas. Oh, and, don’t forget, there’s still —still!— project centres Mouhamed Sene and Johan Petro, fore’er looming, ready to be thrown to the wolves whenever a losing streak starts turning everyone’s minds towards the mythological ‘future’. Furthermore, when Seattle decides to go small —running a lineup of, say, Earl Watson, Delonte West, Kevin Durant, Jeff Green, and Chris Wilcox; one that looks pretty good from this vantage— Swift will be edged out of more minutes. Given he’s also averaged a foul every 6.6 minutes he’s been on the floor, in his short career thus far, Swift also seems like he’s prone to foul trouble. And, there’s also reports, already, that Bobby’s surgically-repaired knee is already suffering from tendonitis mere days into training camp. So, why on earth is anyone banking on this guy beating out an array of more-qualified players for minutes, then piling up enough of them to produce at anything approaching a fantasy-friendly level? I, for one, am lost. Perhaps it’s just the rad tatts?
RICKY DAVIS, Timberwolves.
Beware the unhappy vet on the rebuilding roster. Beware the guy who’ll spend the year in perpetual trade-rumours. Beware Ricky Davis, a headcase whose recent run of solid fantasy seasons should come to an end as the Timberwolves invest minutes in Gerald Green, Corey Brewer, Rashad McCants, and Ryan Gomes, assumedly give Greg Buckner some court time in an attempt to show trading for him was no mere salary dump, and continue to play Marko Jaric in the vain attempt to convince someone to take on that contract in a trade. To call Minnesota overloaded on the wings is to call Minneapolis cold. I’ve already talked up Mo Peterson’s bounce-back capabilities, now that he’s walking into a wide-open situation in New Orleans; but the recent rise-fall(-rise?) chart of Peterson’s career is analogous to Davis. As in: Ricky Davis is, like Mo Pete a few years back, a genuine fantasy force; a guy who’s averaged 18.1 PPG, 4.2 RPG, 4.9 APG, 1.0 SPG, and 98 threes over the past two seasons, on two different teams to boot. Yet, Davis’s productivity has been wholly dependent on the minutes he’s played; he having averaged 39.1 MPG the past couple seasons. What would happen if Davis averaged, say, 20 minutes a game this coming campaign? That, my friend, is an excellent question. Whilst every fantasy geek loves extrapolating small samples out into per-40-minute averages, few do it in the other direction. Because you get depressing results like this: Ricky Davis’s per-20-minute averages over the last two seasons: 9.2 PPG, 2.0 RPG, 2.5 APG, 0.5 SPG, with 51 threes. If you’re scoffing ‘yeah, but Davis isn’t going to get only 20 minutes per’, think back to our old pal Mo Pete. Last year, Peterson found himself on a team that was going in another direction. The Raptors had brought in Anthony Parker, Fred Jones, and TJ Ford, and damn sure if they weren’t going to play them. Peterson, in the last year of his deal and not part of the future plans, found his minutes slashed; going from a robust 38.1 to a paltry 21.1 minutes per. This year, Davis is the veteran on a young team heading in another direction. He’s the guy in the last year of his contract. He’s the cat who’s going to watch on as a bunch of other ex-Celtics get minutes ahead of him. He’s a guy who I wouldn’t want to draft onto my fantasy squad. And, yet, Yahoo!’s default rankings still have him at #55. Yikes.
JARRETT JACK, Trailblazers.
I’ve always liked Jarrett Jack’s game. Big, strong, defensively-aggressive, and blessed with a genuine point-guard mentality, Jack is an impressive, evidently hard-working young guy. I, once, actually saw Jack on the street in Portland, back in August 2005, not long after he’d been drafted. I almost wanted to stop and tell him that he was surely going to beat out Bassy Telfair for a job (but, of course, didn't). Such a claim didn’t exactly unfold so, entirely, in his rookie year, but by last season, Jack had clearly emerged as Nate McMillan’s chosen young point; perhaps helped by the fact that Jack surely reminded Coach Nate of himself, back in his playing days up the I-5. On the year, Jack quarterbacked the Blazers to the tune of 12.0 PPG, 2.6 RPG, 5.3 APG, 1.1 SPG. If you limit those numbers to the 56 games he played 30+ minutes (ie. the ones in which he was given decent burn), Jack’s returns were a very solid 14.1 PPG, 2.7 RPG, 5.8 APG, and 1.3 SPG. Yet, coming into this season, it hardly seems as if Jack is entrenched as the first option at the point. Firstly, the ever-flashy Sergio Rodriguez generated some mighty impressive passing statistics, and actual optimism, amongst the Blazers’ glum faithful last season. When the off-season came, Paul Allen and Kevin Pritchard apparently held the same perception; Rodriguez being, apparently, thought of as off-limits, whilst Jack was dangled as trade-bait, in hopes of getting another lottery pick to go with the #1 one. That didn’t happen, but later in the draft Portland bought off one of Phoenix’s annually-raffled late-first-rounders, and used it to pick Rodriguez’s Spanish backcourt buddy Rudy Fernández, with whom Spanish Chocolate already has incredibly chemistry (on the Spanish World Championship-winning team of last year, they subbed in together as high-energy reserves, changing up the pace from the Calderón/Navarro starting unit). When draft night ticked over into the second round, Pritchard picked Taurean Green, fresh off running point on a couple Gators’ championship squads. Oh, and, then, they brought back former Blazer Steve Blake, signed as a free-agent after earning some quality burn alongside The Answer in the Nuggets’ lineup late last season. Meaning, Jack is now one of four PGs jockeying for minutes at the helm of the Blazers; McMillan having already talked up both Blake and Green to the media in the past week. Given he’s not the kind of guy who can star in limited minutes, I’d think any reduction in Jack’s burn would kill any chance of him being a meaningful fantasy contributor this coming season. Meaning: dark and difficult times lie ahead.
ANTHONY PARKER, Raptors.
Anthony ‘Don’t Call Me Tony’ Parker was, in a strictly basketball sense, a fantastic addition for the Raptors last season; an athletic, veteran two-guard who could D up the opposing team’s top wing, provide veteran stability, and help cultivate the ‘European’ atmosphere being dreamt of by the League’s only North-of-the-Border survivors. Along with sweaty Spaniard Jorge Garbajosa, Parker was a huge reason the chemistry and culture of the Raps changed into something magical; he contributing mightily to a season that ended up, unexpectedly, in the playoffs. There, Parker played his best ball of the year; barely leaving the court as he averaged 15 a night, and got up in My Cousin Vinny’s frowny-faced grill. Those who watched Parker play in the postseason may not think much is untoward with his #70 Yahoo! ranking; Parker having earnt such via his refined three-point stroke (44.1%) and solid numbers. But, on closer inspection, I think you’ll find his hat is made of out liquorice. Like so many SGs, Parker does little more than score; he averaging just 4 rebounds and 2 assists a contest. But, as his 12.4 PPG may attest, Parker doesn’t even score that much; he posting only seven 20-point games on the entire year. If he were just maintaining the status-quo, Parker could be a half-decent, no-risk pick in the last round, perhaps, but here’s the thing: the Raptors went out in the off-season and acquired Carlos Delfino and Jason Kapono, meaning that the 33 minutes per that Parker played last year may not be a total he matches this season. Especially given that Jose Calderón and TJ Ford should be on the floor, together, at the same time far more this season. In today’s exhibition match against Lottomatica Roma, for example, Mitchell stuck almost wholly to what’ll be his regular ten-man rotation —including playing stud big-man Chris Bosh 30 minutes— and Parker got on the court for but 20 minutes. The result? 5 points, 3 rebounds, 2 assists. Add it all up, and Parker comes close to ‘do not draft’ status.
ZACH RANDOLPH, Knicks.
It’s hard for a guy who averaged 23 and 10 to be thought of as a mediocre fantasy player, yet Zach Randolph was just that last season. Despite doing a lot of scoring —and a lot of shooting— Randolph’s career-high points didn’t end up adding up to much. Mostly, because of his Eddy Curry-esque abilities at filling out the rest of the boxscore. Last year, Randolph’s assists, steals, and blocks combined to equal a 1:1 ratio, exctly; 215 each. Randolph was hardly helped by the fact that he can’t get off the floor; his 15 blocked shots a tally worse than (insert tiny guard here) clocked on the season. Or, if you can’t be bothered finding your own funny name: Luke Ridnour, Kirk Hinrich, Jamaal Tinsley, Ben Gordon, and, oh yes, the gingeriffic Brian Scalabrine. In a comedy boon, Randolph is now taking his Eddy Curry-esque game away from the safe confines of the Rose Garden to be booed at MSG, playing alongside, uhh, Eddy Curry. And I, for one, can see it only being a disaster. Remember what happened when Isiah, in all his wisdom, paired Stephon ‘in the truck’ Marbury with Stevie ‘ironically nicknamed’ Franchise? The two guys duplicated skill-sets exactly, making the other redundant. They played poorly when on the floor together, and, when one of them was on the bench, the benched one pouted. Randolph and Curry aren’t quite as sour as either of those little men, but some time on the pine could change that. I can’t see how the two can co-exist. They both demand the ball on the block, and are veritable black-holes when it’s thrown to them. As their assist/turnover ratios show, when doubled, neither of them are crisp with the exit passes. So, when one of them is going to work on the block, the other will be standing and watching. Though Randolph’s rebounds are far superior to Curry’s, he’s not the kind of guy who’s going to work away from the ball; and Curry certainly isn’t. David Lee —one of the very finest young basketballers in all the association— is the perfect guy to play foil to either of these wide-bodied behemoths, but, due possibly to the fact that Isiah don’t give a fuck about white people, Lee was a curious casualty of the Knicks’ front-court minutes-squeeze last year; even though any sane person could see that keeping him off the court for the work of Jared Jeffries/Channing Frye made no sense at all. So, assumedly, Isiah the Coach, insistently out to prove that Isiah the GM makes no mistakes, will be bull-headed enough to play Curry and Randolph as the two-headed monster. Whilst Curry’s value is the one likely to truly plummet —although, given how low his fantasy output is, I’m not sure plummeting is even possible— there’s no doubt that Randolph is due to take a major hit. Whereas, last year, he was playing in a lineup stacked with defensive role-players like Jarrett Jack, Ime Udoka, and Joel Przybilla, this year he’s coming to a Knicks club quarterbacked by Marbury, Nate Robinson, and Jamal Crawford. Last year, with Brandon Roy missing so much time, Randolph was Portland’s 1 and 2 option most nights. This year, he’s fighting for his shots. It’d be no surprise for his numbers to fall back to their 05/06 totals: 18.0 and 8.0; and it’d hardly be a shock for them to tumble lower, a victim of the caustic chemistry of the Thomas-era Knicks. Given such, and given the holes in the rest of his statistical game, Randolph can only be seen as a total draft risk this fantasy season; certainly not worthy of the fifth-round selection most have him pegged as being.
ROBERT SWIFT, Sonics.
Whether it’s been simply fuelled by the high-comedy value that comes from drafting the flaming redhead, Robert Swift has gathered some momentum, heading into the season, as a great late-round flyer, a potential starting centre who can be picked up as a late-round gamble. But I just don’t see it. Whilst I’m well-aware that Swift flashed plenty of potential as a second-year player (when he averaged 6.4 PPG and 5.6 RPG in just 21 minutes a night), that was two seasons and two coaches ago. This year, Swift —fresh off of sitting out an entire year with an ACL injury— is coming into a crowded frontcourt; one filled with not just incumbents Nick Collison and Chris Wilcox, but newly-added veteran Kurt Thomas. Oh, and, don’t forget, there’s still —still!— project centres Mouhamed Sene and Johan Petro, fore’er looming, ready to be thrown to the wolves whenever a losing streak starts turning everyone’s minds towards the mythological ‘future’. Furthermore, when Seattle decides to go small —running a lineup of, say, Earl Watson, Delonte West, Kevin Durant, Jeff Green, and Chris Wilcox; one that looks pretty good from this vantage— Swift will be edged out of more minutes. Given he’s also averaged a foul every 6.6 minutes he’s been on the floor, in his short career thus far, Swift also seems like he’s prone to foul trouble. And, there’s also reports, already, that Bobby’s surgically-repaired knee is already suffering from tendonitis mere days into training camp. So, why on earth is anyone banking on this guy beating out an array of more-qualified players for minutes, then piling up enough of them to produce at anything approaching a fantasy-friendly level? I, for one, am lost. Perhaps it’s just the rad tatts?
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