I can't help but agree with the writer of this piece. Smith, when he's dialed in, can literally do EVERYTHING on the basketball court and do it all very well. Not having him on our team to see on a regular basis makes people rave about how much they want him. But if we had him, how long would it be until those same people would be demanding that he be traded because of his inconsistent play?
For all this talent, Smith is a big disappointment
by Gregg Doyel
For all this talent, Smith is a big disappointment
by Gregg Doyel
CHICAGO -- Josh Smith is one of the nicest, one of the most infuriating, one of the most disappointing players in the NBA. That's a complicated combination, because tearing into Josh Smith doesn't come easy. He's a sweetheart of a guy, humble, helpful. You want others in the NBA to be like him, off the court.
On the court? You want nobody to be like him on the court. Because on it, he's maddening. He's frustrating. Watching Josh Smith now is like watching Vince Carter back when Carter was one of the most talented players in the world, but a guy who just didn't give a crap.
This story isn't about Vince Carter, which is too bad because I'd love to tear into that guy. Carter should have been a Hall of Famer, and maybe he will be in spite of himself -- in spite of his passionless, ring-less, pointless career. Well, his career wasn't entirely pointless. Vince Carter has managed to score 20,050 of them, but he should have done more than score a lot and win a little. He should have been an all-time great, not a more acrobatic World B. Free.
That's where Josh Smith is headed. He's headed toward Vince-ville. Not because he's a one-dimensional scorer like Vince Carter, but because he's an all-world talent who doesn't maximize his potential for greatness.
Here I am in Chicago, writing about the Eastern Conference semifinals between the Bulls and Hawks, watching league MVPDerrick Rose play at or close to that level every night. And I'm watching the second most talented player in this series -- Josh Smith -- not play to that level for more than a few minutes at a time. Six such minutes came at the start of Game 4, when Smith stayed close to the basket and was clearly the best player on his team. Then he left with two fouls, and the moment was gone.
Smith should routinely be the Hawks' best player, but he's not. Joe Johnson is that guy. Smith might not even be No. 2 on the Hawks, given the persistence of Jamal Crawford. He might not be third, given the emergence of Jeff Teague. Hell, some could argue that Smith is behind even Al Horford. There's an argument to be made that Josh Smith is the fifth-best player on the Hawks, and that's obscene.
So is this fact, a fact I stumbled onto only because I'm covering this playoff series. If I weren't here, delving into each player beyond the numbers in the box scores, I never would have known this statistic.
The number: zero.
As in, the number of All-Star games in the career of Josh Smith.
Zero.
That's absurd. Twenty-four players make the All-Star team each year, but no Josh Smith? Ever? That's beyond comprehension given that Josh Smith, at his best, is one of the 20 most talented players in today's NBA. And that's me being conservative. If I had any guts at all, I'd declare Smith one of the 10 most talented guys in the league. I've talked to one front-office guy, one scout and two national NBA writers, and I've given them that theory -- There aren't 10 guys in the NBA with more talent than Josh Smith -- and not one of them told me I'm nuts. All said a variation of the following, that judging talent over results is a subjective thing and therefore impossible to prove, but not one called my theory insane, incorrect or even exaggerated. Two of them flat-out agreed.
At his best, Josh Smith is good enough to be in that conversation. Look at what he produces. Even though he disappears for minutes at a time, sometimes games at a time, Smith has had season averages of 17.2 points, 8.7 rebounds, 4.2 assists, 2.9 blocked shots and 1.6 steals per game.
Do you know how many active NBA players have reached those marks in a given season?
One.
Only Josh Smith.
He should be soaring to greatness, but he long ago attached a cinder block to his shoes, and everyone knows the cinder block in question. It's his perimeter shooting. For some reason Smith is intent on proving to someone, maybe just himself, that he can score from the outside. And given his insistence on shooting from out there, he can. It's a volume thing -- shoot enough from 18 feet, from 20 feet, even from beyond the 3-point arc, and a few shots will fall. That's the statistical lie that emboldens Smith to keep firing from the perimeter:
I don't miss every time.
Better if he did. If Smith stopped hitting even 28.2 percent of his 3-pointers -- his career number -- he might come to terms with the reality that he's a low-post player, one who converts nearly 67 percent of his shots when he attacks the rim, compared to roughly 31 percent from mid-range and beyond.
The problem is, nobody has ever told Smith he's a low-post player. When he was in high school and AAU ball, his coaches allowed him to play on the wing. He played on the same AAU team as Dwight Howard and Randolph Morris, so there really was no room for him in the lane. He hovered around the perimeter, going inside whenever he wanted to dunk on somebody, but staying outside whenever he wanted to prove to himself that he didn't miss every time.
When Smith chose Indiana, then-Hoosiers coach Mike Davis told me that Smith would revolutionize the wing position in college -- and maybe he was right, if by revolutionize the wing position he meant that Smith would be a wing who couldn't score outside of 10 feet. We never saw it, because Smith entered the 2004 NBA Draft out of high school and went 17th overall.
A 6-foot-9 pogo stick who can run like a guard? Look, a guy like this doesn't come along all that often. The only active NBA players with a more shocking combination of size, explosion and agility are LeBron James and Dwight Howard. Those are also two of the few players that I'm sure are more talented than Josh Smith. Other names on that list are Dwyane Wade, Kobe Bryant, Dirk Nowitzki, Derrick Rose, Chris Paul and Kevin Durant.
Carmelo Anthony probably belongs on that list, but I'm not sure. Amar'e Stoudemire? Maybe. Paul Pierce, Russell Westbrook, Blake Griffin, Deron Williams, Kevin Love. Those are more maybes. But maybe not.
The difference in those guys and Smith is that those guys know who they are. Stoudemire, Love and Griffin are low-post players. They don't pretend otherwise. They get the most out of their ability because they play where they should play.
Smith plays where he wants to play, and he wants to play on the wing. And he'll never have the Basketball Hall of Fame plaque to show for it.
On the court? You want nobody to be like him on the court. Because on it, he's maddening. He's frustrating. Watching Josh Smith now is like watching Vince Carter back when Carter was one of the most talented players in the world, but a guy who just didn't give a crap.
This story isn't about Vince Carter, which is too bad because I'd love to tear into that guy. Carter should have been a Hall of Famer, and maybe he will be in spite of himself -- in spite of his passionless, ring-less, pointless career. Well, his career wasn't entirely pointless. Vince Carter has managed to score 20,050 of them, but he should have done more than score a lot and win a little. He should have been an all-time great, not a more acrobatic World B. Free.
That's where Josh Smith is headed. He's headed toward Vince-ville. Not because he's a one-dimensional scorer like Vince Carter, but because he's an all-world talent who doesn't maximize his potential for greatness.
Here I am in Chicago, writing about the Eastern Conference semifinals between the Bulls and Hawks, watching league MVPDerrick Rose play at or close to that level every night. And I'm watching the second most talented player in this series -- Josh Smith -- not play to that level for more than a few minutes at a time. Six such minutes came at the start of Game 4, when Smith stayed close to the basket and was clearly the best player on his team. Then he left with two fouls, and the moment was gone.
Smith should routinely be the Hawks' best player, but he's not. Joe Johnson is that guy. Smith might not even be No. 2 on the Hawks, given the persistence of Jamal Crawford. He might not be third, given the emergence of Jeff Teague. Hell, some could argue that Smith is behind even Al Horford. There's an argument to be made that Josh Smith is the fifth-best player on the Hawks, and that's obscene.
So is this fact, a fact I stumbled onto only because I'm covering this playoff series. If I weren't here, delving into each player beyond the numbers in the box scores, I never would have known this statistic.
The number: zero.
As in, the number of All-Star games in the career of Josh Smith.
Zero.
That's absurd. Twenty-four players make the All-Star team each year, but no Josh Smith? Ever? That's beyond comprehension given that Josh Smith, at his best, is one of the 20 most talented players in today's NBA. And that's me being conservative. If I had any guts at all, I'd declare Smith one of the 10 most talented guys in the league. I've talked to one front-office guy, one scout and two national NBA writers, and I've given them that theory -- There aren't 10 guys in the NBA with more talent than Josh Smith -- and not one of them told me I'm nuts. All said a variation of the following, that judging talent over results is a subjective thing and therefore impossible to prove, but not one called my theory insane, incorrect or even exaggerated. Two of them flat-out agreed.
At his best, Josh Smith is good enough to be in that conversation. Look at what he produces. Even though he disappears for minutes at a time, sometimes games at a time, Smith has had season averages of 17.2 points, 8.7 rebounds, 4.2 assists, 2.9 blocked shots and 1.6 steals per game.
Do you know how many active NBA players have reached those marks in a given season?
One.
Only Josh Smith.
He should be soaring to greatness, but he long ago attached a cinder block to his shoes, and everyone knows the cinder block in question. It's his perimeter shooting. For some reason Smith is intent on proving to someone, maybe just himself, that he can score from the outside. And given his insistence on shooting from out there, he can. It's a volume thing -- shoot enough from 18 feet, from 20 feet, even from beyond the 3-point arc, and a few shots will fall. That's the statistical lie that emboldens Smith to keep firing from the perimeter:
I don't miss every time.
Better if he did. If Smith stopped hitting even 28.2 percent of his 3-pointers -- his career number -- he might come to terms with the reality that he's a low-post player, one who converts nearly 67 percent of his shots when he attacks the rim, compared to roughly 31 percent from mid-range and beyond.
The problem is, nobody has ever told Smith he's a low-post player. When he was in high school and AAU ball, his coaches allowed him to play on the wing. He played on the same AAU team as Dwight Howard and Randolph Morris, so there really was no room for him in the lane. He hovered around the perimeter, going inside whenever he wanted to dunk on somebody, but staying outside whenever he wanted to prove to himself that he didn't miss every time.
When Smith chose Indiana, then-Hoosiers coach Mike Davis told me that Smith would revolutionize the wing position in college -- and maybe he was right, if by revolutionize the wing position he meant that Smith would be a wing who couldn't score outside of 10 feet. We never saw it, because Smith entered the 2004 NBA Draft out of high school and went 17th overall.
A 6-foot-9 pogo stick who can run like a guard? Look, a guy like this doesn't come along all that often. The only active NBA players with a more shocking combination of size, explosion and agility are LeBron James and Dwight Howard. Those are also two of the few players that I'm sure are more talented than Josh Smith. Other names on that list are Dwyane Wade, Kobe Bryant, Dirk Nowitzki, Derrick Rose, Chris Paul and Kevin Durant.
Carmelo Anthony probably belongs on that list, but I'm not sure. Amar'e Stoudemire? Maybe. Paul Pierce, Russell Westbrook, Blake Griffin, Deron Williams, Kevin Love. Those are more maybes. But maybe not.
The difference in those guys and Smith is that those guys know who they are. Stoudemire, Love and Griffin are low-post players. They don't pretend otherwise. They get the most out of their ability because they play where they should play.
Smith plays where he wants to play, and he wants to play on the wing. And he'll never have the Basketball Hall of Fame plaque to show for it.
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