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Friday, April 28, 2006
Heartache in the Heartland
Coming to Indy is an annual rite of spring – has been since ’92. Prior to that, we only came twice a year, and we didn’t know the place from God’s Little Acre. Can’t say we liked it much back then – it was slow, sleepy, undeveloped, and we always suspected that somewhere outside of town there was a sign that read, “Welcome to Indianapolis – This is what death is like.”
The place seemed to be the most powerful hypnotic known to man, because hardly anyone left. You knew that by the fact that everyone looked 60 years old, including a few of the Pacers cheerleaders. We used to laugh at a catalogue they put in each hotel room, entitled “Indiana, Our Glorious State.” And if you were bored enough to open the thing, you realized that the assortment of glories were a bit on the thin side, unless you had a real hankering to visit the creamery out in Zionsville.
None of that holds true today, though. By any standard, Indianapolis is a mecca of cosmopolitanism, a dynamic hub of commerce and culture and tall glass buildings, where people wear suits and dark socks, even simultaneously.
Here’s the difference: In the old days, the epicenter around here was Market Square Arena, which was the greatest basketball venue in the world – yes, better than MSG, better than Boston Garden, better than Chicago Stadium. The game was a community event, like a raucous pep rally that started at daybreak and continued hours after Reggie stuck a dagger in your heart. Nothing topped it for pure, manic entertainment, and every spring throughout the 1990s, it was like Hoosier Mardi Gras, and that was even before the Indy 500 drivers came to town to start time trials. You even tolerated those damn zoom-zoom noises from the PA system, which made it sound like a billion honeybees were stuck in the ventilation ducts.
And now, everything has changed. We’re not joking: We experienced a profound depression watching Game 3 at Conseco last night. The place was dead, with only 14,700 bothering to show, and we’re told more than 1,000 of them were freebies. Nobody cares about the team around here anymore – partly because No. 31 has left the building, partly because the Artest hangover that still makes the franchise so wobbly, partly because there has been a stunning disconnect between this group of players and its fan base.
We have no idea what the advance sales are for Game 4, but it’s not likely to change much. It’s enough to make you root for the visiting team, and get out of here ASAP.
***
As for the series, the Nets are done.
Just joking. You don't have to jump from the train platform.
The interesting thing is that the momentum keeps shifting, and in the case of this series, every two quarters or so. The Nets have a unique set of problems. To any sensible outsider, you can say that this is a stupid time to start fumbling around for an identity, but between dominating defense (which is the Pacers identity) and the embarrassing lack of control (which is the Knicks’ identity) and the utter bewilderment of how to deal with Jermaine if he stays on the perimeter, the Nets lost themselves three different ways in Game 3.
“You can’t reinvent yourself in 24 hours,” L-Frank said. “The bottom line is this, we know what our blueprint is to win. When we stick to our blueprint, we’re pretty good. When we don’t stick to our blueprint, we show our weakness. That’s our vulnerability.”
Frank played it smart today. He had media access before practice and film, so all the players were as clueless as the rest of us as to what they’re going to do tomorrow afternoon, and couldn’t get specific about their adjustments. The coach himself was either evasive or oblivious – you couldn’t tell which, because he never answered the questions placed to him, instead wandering off into a stream-of-consciousness thicket that suggested he didn’t much care about whatever premise reporters were trying to pursue. In short, it is beginning to look like circle the wagons time.
***
Jefferson, on their Game 3 failures: “Oh, there were so many things. Where to begin? Where to begin? We weren’t very good. Jermaine O’Neal had an unbelievable game, a damn near historic performance the way he played. AJ hit a career high. You can’t have two guys hitting a career high in the same game and really think you’re going to have a good chance at winning.”
That’s the thing: The Nets seem to believe that those two cannot pull off a repeat of their performances in Game 3 (20-for-28, 62 points), but they’re forgetting two things. First, they never have prolonged luck against big men with mid-range games who don’t have to rely solely on their post stuff (Brand, Garnett, Brad Miller, Bosh, and, of course, guys who can really stretch you like Rasheed and Dirk).
“Jermaine O’Neal shooting jumpers is what we want,” Collins said. “We just have to do a better job putting a hand in his face. There are other things we can do -- not double, but as far as stunting and stuff.”
Second, they seem to be losing sight of the fact that since the series began, AJ is the only one who is playing like his life depends on it. Nobody has been able to match his intensity, and he’s got a lot more in his offensive package – especially in the penetration and spot-up shooting areas – than anyone gave him credit for.
But O’Neal is the bigger problem.
“We believe our game plan for 1 and 2 were very good,” Jefferson said. “We’re not going to change anything. They got some calls. Our bigs had 16 fouls (in Game 3), which is a little unheard of, but he also got fined $15,000 for what he said about the referees. I believe our game plan is good. We just need to be a little bit better at executing it.”
A little better? We say they have to play their best defensive game of the season tomorrow, period.
Copyright 2006 NJ.com. All Rights Reserved.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Heartache in the Heartland
Coming to Indy is an annual rite of spring – has been since ’92. Prior to that, we only came twice a year, and we didn’t know the place from God’s Little Acre. Can’t say we liked it much back then – it was slow, sleepy, undeveloped, and we always suspected that somewhere outside of town there was a sign that read, “Welcome to Indianapolis – This is what death is like.”
The place seemed to be the most powerful hypnotic known to man, because hardly anyone left. You knew that by the fact that everyone looked 60 years old, including a few of the Pacers cheerleaders. We used to laugh at a catalogue they put in each hotel room, entitled “Indiana, Our Glorious State.” And if you were bored enough to open the thing, you realized that the assortment of glories were a bit on the thin side, unless you had a real hankering to visit the creamery out in Zionsville.
None of that holds true today, though. By any standard, Indianapolis is a mecca of cosmopolitanism, a dynamic hub of commerce and culture and tall glass buildings, where people wear suits and dark socks, even simultaneously.
Here’s the difference: In the old days, the epicenter around here was Market Square Arena, which was the greatest basketball venue in the world – yes, better than MSG, better than Boston Garden, better than Chicago Stadium. The game was a community event, like a raucous pep rally that started at daybreak and continued hours after Reggie stuck a dagger in your heart. Nothing topped it for pure, manic entertainment, and every spring throughout the 1990s, it was like Hoosier Mardi Gras, and that was even before the Indy 500 drivers came to town to start time trials. You even tolerated those damn zoom-zoom noises from the PA system, which made it sound like a billion honeybees were stuck in the ventilation ducts.
And now, everything has changed. We’re not joking: We experienced a profound depression watching Game 3 at Conseco last night. The place was dead, with only 14,700 bothering to show, and we’re told more than 1,000 of them were freebies. Nobody cares about the team around here anymore – partly because No. 31 has left the building, partly because the Artest hangover that still makes the franchise so wobbly, partly because there has been a stunning disconnect between this group of players and its fan base.
We have no idea what the advance sales are for Game 4, but it’s not likely to change much. It’s enough to make you root for the visiting team, and get out of here ASAP.
***
As for the series, the Nets are done.
Just joking. You don't have to jump from the train platform.
The interesting thing is that the momentum keeps shifting, and in the case of this series, every two quarters or so. The Nets have a unique set of problems. To any sensible outsider, you can say that this is a stupid time to start fumbling around for an identity, but between dominating defense (which is the Pacers identity) and the embarrassing lack of control (which is the Knicks’ identity) and the utter bewilderment of how to deal with Jermaine if he stays on the perimeter, the Nets lost themselves three different ways in Game 3.
“You can’t reinvent yourself in 24 hours,” L-Frank said. “The bottom line is this, we know what our blueprint is to win. When we stick to our blueprint, we’re pretty good. When we don’t stick to our blueprint, we show our weakness. That’s our vulnerability.”
Frank played it smart today. He had media access before practice and film, so all the players were as clueless as the rest of us as to what they’re going to do tomorrow afternoon, and couldn’t get specific about their adjustments. The coach himself was either evasive or oblivious – you couldn’t tell which, because he never answered the questions placed to him, instead wandering off into a stream-of-consciousness thicket that suggested he didn’t much care about whatever premise reporters were trying to pursue. In short, it is beginning to look like circle the wagons time.
***
Jefferson, on their Game 3 failures: “Oh, there were so many things. Where to begin? Where to begin? We weren’t very good. Jermaine O’Neal had an unbelievable game, a damn near historic performance the way he played. AJ hit a career high. You can’t have two guys hitting a career high in the same game and really think you’re going to have a good chance at winning.”
That’s the thing: The Nets seem to believe that those two cannot pull off a repeat of their performances in Game 3 (20-for-28, 62 points), but they’re forgetting two things. First, they never have prolonged luck against big men with mid-range games who don’t have to rely solely on their post stuff (Brand, Garnett, Brad Miller, Bosh, and, of course, guys who can really stretch you like Rasheed and Dirk).
“Jermaine O’Neal shooting jumpers is what we want,” Collins said. “We just have to do a better job putting a hand in his face. There are other things we can do -- not double, but as far as stunting and stuff.”
Second, they seem to be losing sight of the fact that since the series began, AJ is the only one who is playing like his life depends on it. Nobody has been able to match his intensity, and he’s got a lot more in his offensive package – especially in the penetration and spot-up shooting areas – than anyone gave him credit for.
But O’Neal is the bigger problem.
“We believe our game plan for 1 and 2 were very good,” Jefferson said. “We’re not going to change anything. They got some calls. Our bigs had 16 fouls (in Game 3), which is a little unheard of, but he also got fined $15,000 for what he said about the referees. I believe our game plan is good. We just need to be a little bit better at executing it.”
A little better? We say they have to play their best defensive game of the season tomorrow, period.
Copyright 2006 NJ.com. All Rights Reserved.
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