Jay pointed out to me that Charlie Rosen is doing a series of articles on each NBA coach leading up to the season.
For those who don't know, Charlie Rosen is a former CBA coach and is widely known as Phil Jackson's hatchet man. I thoroughly dislike the man, if for no other reason than he can't open his mouth without taking an unsubstantiated pot-shot at somebody. For instance, he started the Paul Silas article by blaming Paul's long tenure as an assistant on Pat Riley supposedly calling him lazy.
That said, I couldn't resist posting this. Take from it what you will.
Are Pacers, Carlisle a good fit?
For those who don't know, Charlie Rosen is a former CBA coach and is widely known as Phil Jackson's hatchet man. I thoroughly dislike the man, if for no other reason than he can't open his mouth without taking an unsubstantiated pot-shot at somebody. For instance, he started the Paul Silas article by blaming Paul's long tenure as an assistant on Pat Riley supposedly calling him lazy.
That said, I couldn't resist posting this. Take from it what you will.
Are Pacers, Carlisle a good fit?
Charley Rosen / Special to FOXSports.com
Posted: 10 days ago
This guy is a coach, not a schmoozer. It's not that he doesn't cooperate with the media, just that he can be abrupt and close-mouthed when responding to the normal "what-was-your-greatest-thrill" type interviews. Ask him a "real" basketball question, however, and he'll give an honest, intelligent response.
Sometimes, though, Carlisle can be too honest for his own good — as when he publicly calls his players to task for their shoddy performances. And when his unshakeable honesty oftentimes leads to stubbornness.
Coaching stubborn defense is the hallmark of Carlisle's game plan. His teams will deny passes, collapse on ball penetration (while still being in position to run down shooters), attack post passes, fight through screen/rolls (or have big men show), and generally harass the ball. Quickness and cohesive rotations are the keys.
At the downhill end of the court, Carlisle favors lots of early offense, dives, curls, pin-downs, cross-picks, multi-facets of the Hawk series (where the bigs start high and then pick low), isos, and some flex action. Precision and good shooters are the requisites.
Similar to his relationship with the media, Carlisle is all-business when dealing with his players. He's their coach, not their buddy. Carlisle also exhibits a wonderful game-time demeanor on the bench — involved, but still calm and rational.
Not that Carlisle's resume is spotless. Interesting enough, he blinked during the playoffs for two seasons running. In Game 2 against the Nets in the 2003 Eastern Conference finals, Carlisle sat Michael Curry and plugged Tayshaun Prince into Detroit's starting lineup, a move designed to boost the Piston's lethargic offense. In truth, Prince was spectacularly unprepared to be a go-to guy in his rookie season. Sure, he'd had his moments against Philadelphia in the previous series, but the Sixers' interior defense was weak whereas the Nets' D was all about quick hands and double-teamings.
By disregarding the fact that Curry was one of the Pistons' most accomplished defenders and most positive locker room presences, Carlisle undermined the team's primary strength — its overall chemistry. Curry was then double-dissed in that game when he was denied any daylight whatsoever.
Carlisle repeated the same tactic during last year's conference finals against Detroit when he removed Jeff Foster from the lineup and likewise screwed him into the bench for the duration. The rationale was that while Foster was a dependable defender and an excellent rebounder (particularly in a crowd), he couldn't score with a pencil.
Did Carlisle panic? Perhaps Detroit general manager Joe Dumars forced Carlisle to force feed Prince? Or was Carlisle merely being flexible?
Nobody but Carlisle knows for sure.
The two moves by Carlisle essentially sent the following message to his players: What got them so deep into the playoffs was not good enough to take them to the next level.
In order to be effective in the modern-day NBA, Carlisle's stick-to-the-business-at-hand game face needs to be presented to a special group of players — guys who want desperately to win, who are willing to sacrifice their own numbers, and who don't need to be nuzzled and spoon-fed by their coach. In other words, players who have attained a certain level of maturity.
In truth, Carlisle's squad in Detroit fit these requisites much more than his current team does. The likes of Ron Artest, Jermaine O'Neal, and newcomer Stephen Jackson have never been accused of acting like grown-ups.
What else does the Pacers' roster have to offer? Consistently erratic performances by Austin Croshere and Jamaal Tinsley. The increasing decrepitude of Reggie Miller. The alarming playoff incompetence of Artest. And the still-elusive coming-of-age of Jonathan Bender.
Add it all up and there'll be plenty of offense, insufficient discipline (especially from the mistake-prone Jackson), and nary enough defense. By season's end, the time may be ripe for the Pacers to either back up the truck and ship out their resident knuckleheads, or for Rick Carlisle to connect with a team of adults that needs a coach.
Posted: 10 days ago
This guy is a coach, not a schmoozer. It's not that he doesn't cooperate with the media, just that he can be abrupt and close-mouthed when responding to the normal "what-was-your-greatest-thrill" type interviews. Ask him a "real" basketball question, however, and he'll give an honest, intelligent response.
Sometimes, though, Carlisle can be too honest for his own good — as when he publicly calls his players to task for their shoddy performances. And when his unshakeable honesty oftentimes leads to stubbornness.
Coaching stubborn defense is the hallmark of Carlisle's game plan. His teams will deny passes, collapse on ball penetration (while still being in position to run down shooters), attack post passes, fight through screen/rolls (or have big men show), and generally harass the ball. Quickness and cohesive rotations are the keys.
At the downhill end of the court, Carlisle favors lots of early offense, dives, curls, pin-downs, cross-picks, multi-facets of the Hawk series (where the bigs start high and then pick low), isos, and some flex action. Precision and good shooters are the requisites.
Similar to his relationship with the media, Carlisle is all-business when dealing with his players. He's their coach, not their buddy. Carlisle also exhibits a wonderful game-time demeanor on the bench — involved, but still calm and rational.
Not that Carlisle's resume is spotless. Interesting enough, he blinked during the playoffs for two seasons running. In Game 2 against the Nets in the 2003 Eastern Conference finals, Carlisle sat Michael Curry and plugged Tayshaun Prince into Detroit's starting lineup, a move designed to boost the Piston's lethargic offense. In truth, Prince was spectacularly unprepared to be a go-to guy in his rookie season. Sure, he'd had his moments against Philadelphia in the previous series, but the Sixers' interior defense was weak whereas the Nets' D was all about quick hands and double-teamings.
By disregarding the fact that Curry was one of the Pistons' most accomplished defenders and most positive locker room presences, Carlisle undermined the team's primary strength — its overall chemistry. Curry was then double-dissed in that game when he was denied any daylight whatsoever.
Carlisle repeated the same tactic during last year's conference finals against Detroit when he removed Jeff Foster from the lineup and likewise screwed him into the bench for the duration. The rationale was that while Foster was a dependable defender and an excellent rebounder (particularly in a crowd), he couldn't score with a pencil.
Did Carlisle panic? Perhaps Detroit general manager Joe Dumars forced Carlisle to force feed Prince? Or was Carlisle merely being flexible?
Nobody but Carlisle knows for sure.
The two moves by Carlisle essentially sent the following message to his players: What got them so deep into the playoffs was not good enough to take them to the next level.
In order to be effective in the modern-day NBA, Carlisle's stick-to-the-business-at-hand game face needs to be presented to a special group of players — guys who want desperately to win, who are willing to sacrifice their own numbers, and who don't need to be nuzzled and spoon-fed by their coach. In other words, players who have attained a certain level of maturity.
In truth, Carlisle's squad in Detroit fit these requisites much more than his current team does. The likes of Ron Artest, Jermaine O'Neal, and newcomer Stephen Jackson have never been accused of acting like grown-ups.
What else does the Pacers' roster have to offer? Consistently erratic performances by Austin Croshere and Jamaal Tinsley. The increasing decrepitude of Reggie Miller. The alarming playoff incompetence of Artest. And the still-elusive coming-of-age of Jonathan Bender.
Add it all up and there'll be plenty of offense, insufficient discipline (especially from the mistake-prone Jackson), and nary enough defense. By season's end, the time may be ripe for the Pacers to either back up the truck and ship out their resident knuckleheads, or for Rick Carlisle to connect with a team of adults that needs a coach.
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