Top 9s: Thoughts on the Finals

Whoa.

That was an NBA Finals.

A heavily-contested seven-game exchange of haymakers between two iconic juggernauts.

Not only a title, but legacies were on the line, and it played out beautifully.

While a few of the series' games didn't need a second half, and Miami spent most of it mired in inconsistency, it was the adjustment-fueled unpredictability of this matchup, and its ability to deliver a dramatic turn of events at every crucial juncture, that made it so compelling. It went kind of like this on a basketball court (with Dwyane Wade playing the role of Joffrey as he ridiculously nicknames his new sword "Heart-Eater").

I'm still trying to wrap my head around Game 6. I've spent countless hours watching basketball, and can't confidently say I've ever seen a more crucially thrilling 4th quarter, one that will probably go down as the most definitive moment in LeBron James' legacy. He'd spent most of the game playing passively; pulling up for jumpers when he was ice cold and displaying a similar lack of touch when he seldom got to the hoop. Then the 4th came, as if it were pre-ordained by Erik Spoelstra telling Doris Burke "We need our best defensive quarter of the season". They got it, erasing a 10-point deficit with LeBron not only putting up several massive plays on D but - ironically stripped of his hairline-guard - channeling Ether Mode out of nowhere, scoring at will, saving his team's season and altering history. 

Without that performance, the Heat's season (and when I say "Heat", I basically mean LeBron) becomes a footnoted failure along the NBA annals; their boisterous and flamboyant union of superstars in South Beach would ultimately be looked upon as a bust of style over substance and hype over hoops. James boldly re-wrote what seemed to be another off-chapter in his career; he solidified the next level in an already Top-10 All-Time career, and swiftly changed the popular offseason discussion from "When will he just get it consistently in the Finals?" to "He might go down as the best basketball player ever". That LeBron came out guns blazing from beyond the arc in Game 7 (I was waiting for him to turn around and shrug as he jogged downcourt) was a fitting cap to a memorable Playoff run in which he solidified himself as, if nothing else, the most dynamically dominant player in NBA history.

It would be ignorant not to tip a hat to the Spurs (although it's definitely possible that the backup point guard of the Houston Rockets was the biggest contributor to their Playoff run). Every year they continue to defy father time and popular opinion, and were a transcendent, historic takeover by an unstoppable player away from a 5th Pop/Duncan title over 14 years. That's fucking impressive. Way may not have even seen the last of them yet, but how San Antonio manages to continue performing at this level is one of sports' greatest complex marvels.

There's plenty more to be said about this series, I could go on for days. To spare my fingers - and your tolerance for my rantings -  I'll keep it to nine things that stood out to me (other than LeBron) in these Finals, a Championship Edition of the Top 9s:

9. Manu's Officially Fallen Off

The guy who was the easy bet as the first Spurs' star to slow down indeed has confirmed early indications that San Antonio's "Big 3" are now a busted tripod. Game 5 was a renaissance to his glory days, but it came almost as a shock (if such a thing was possible in this series) and was evidently a flash in the pan, as Ginobili returned to inconsistent, selective scoring over the last two games, while turning the ball over like bed sheets in a Vegas hotel. Kawhi Leonard is  unquestionably now the Spurs' third-best player (more on that in a moment) and Popovich/Buford should give serious thought to how much they can invest long-term in the Free Agent who performed so inconsistently down the stretch of the postseason. At 35, with a total of 18 pro seasons under his belt, it's a virtual certainty he won't be getting better. 

8.Javie the Hutt

NBA officiating is an extremely difficult, high-pressure job with massive implications; one that isn't made any easier when the context of fouls - the most common call in the game - can often change almost nightly. The inconsistency in officiating's been an issue plaguing the Playoffs annually, as warped calls distort the game's context and affect outcomes (like Ginobili's potentially series-altering no-call at the end of Game 6). 

Luckily a very smart individual at ESPN decided to toss the recently-retired Steve Javie a headset and let him help bridge the gap between reality and that strange alternate universe officials occasionally drift off into where only superstars shoot free throws, and a player grimacing excitedly after a big dunk can get him T'd up. Javie's well-spoken, impartial and offers not only an experienced perspective on the difficulties of the job that can lead to blown calls, but serves as a sort of watchdog against officials who might get over-zealous and try to take over games with the whistle. At least on national TV. 

7. Erik Spoelstra "clicking buttons"

As an addicted dedicated online poker player, I've gradually become immersed in a vast lexicon of strange vernacular. One of the more self-explanatory terms - "clicking buttons" - refers to a player who's just randomly splashing around without any sort of consistent strategy, waywardly tapping  his mouse and keyboard, making wild bet sizes with junk hands as though he's excited just to see what will happen.

This seemed to be Spo's M.O. throughout most of the series, as Popovich continually out-coached him and he responded by frantically throwing different lineups at San Antonio in an almost trial-and-error fashion, before finally arriving at the Game 6 4th-Quarter set that spaced the floor ideally for LeBron and was quick enough to rotate against the Spurs' passing.

He failed to develop a scheme to contain Danny Green for five games (if it happens for one game, it's probably the players' fault, if it happens for five it's definitely the coach's), randomly went small with Mike Miller instead of Shane Battier, took too long to realize the Birdman just wasn't flying against Timmy D, before benching him and then re-inserting him in a panic for Game 6 only to have basically the same thing happen.  Miami won this series almost in spite of him as Pop exploited the sideline matchup in ways Spo couldn't counter.

6. Dwyane Wade might be my least favorite player in the NBA

When the Heat assembled this trio, Wade was the squeaky-clean one; the GQ-rated, ring-having King of South Beach, who'd "brought them together" and hadn't left a city/country of pissed off fans behind him. Times have certainly changed; LeBron's stolen the keys to the team and city from Wade, who's developed a troubling pattern of arrogant, annoying behavior while oscillating between past and future versions of his basketball ability.

He whines constantly to the refs, probably more than any other NBA player. He makes dumb public statements, like he should be paid for the Olympics. He plays with an irritating sense of entitlement that isn't his anymore; a common ball-stopper who launches predictable, out-of-sync mid-long range jumpers as though they're his bread 'n butter, and when he plays like crap, he deflects it on LeBron or screams at his coach. 

Dressing as obnoxiously as he often chooses to while attempting to give himself an equally dumb and narcissistic nickname as a promotional tie-in for his new shoe deal don't make him any more likeable, nor does the fact that he dates a woman who's hypnotized any man (and probably more than a few women) who's seen movies on BET.

What's most disappointing about Wade is that he generally behaves with about 20% of the poise, maturity and charisma that he had before James and Bosh showed up, like he's regressed to an immature child that needs to show off for his friends. A guy who was once respected league-wide has become a pretentious crybaby while his consistency continues to slip. And his team played better without him when it mattered most. 

5. Kawhi Leonard is really, really good

While Ginobili and Wade represented the fading legends of these Finals, Leonard used the series as his launching pad from "Alpha Role-Player" to "Probable All-Star", teaming with Boris Diaw to confound LeBron for large stretches, while scoring in a variety of ways, and both passing and rebounding extremely well for a player his size.

A recent Grantland article chronicled the Leonard/George Hill swap as both were playing a crucial role for teams in the Conference Finals and it appeared to be a mutually beneficial move. The added layer was that Indiana had almost traded for Hill the previous season, but backed out to keep their draft pick and use it on some guy named Paul George who just reeked of NBA potential. Having George developing on the wing made it easier for Indiana to part with Leonard's rights, allowing the Spurs to acquire a player whose career ceiling - after these Finals - doesn't look much different from PG's lofty potential.

Everything about him impresses me; not only the variety of ways in which he can impact a game, but how he keeps a constant even-keel. He always stays cool and plays within himself, accepting whatever is asked of him by his team and performing with the poise of a veteran. At 21. It seems remarkable, but then you remember that these are the Spurs, that the words "character guys" and "draft steals" are the core of their franchise, and it becomes perfectly standard. 

4. Like a Bosh

Bosh's Finals performance - much like Wade's - was a generally disappointing inability to get himself going consistently. He put up a donut in Game 7 (yeah, he didn't score at all) missing easy jumpers and drawing the ire of Miami's fickle crowd after they had to watch Tim Duncan just completely sodomize him for 36 minutes of Game 6. But in between those two disasters, he delivered on three plays - two blocks and an offensive rebound - that respectively indirectly and very directly, saved Miami's season.

As simple and amusing as it is to poke fun at a guy who makes himself such a target consistently, I kind of feel for Bosh, as he's had to make massive sacrifices for this team. Not only did he slide from a first to third option in joining the Heat, but eventually was asked to step outside his comfort zone and position, basically playing a pseudo-center to help keep the floor spaced with shooters, the lane open for James and Wade, and as many runners on the floor as possible for the Heat's suffocating, uptempo play. The result has sometimes often left Bosh in compromising positions on defense and the offensive glass against larger, longer, more physical players, not helping his reputation around the league as somewhat of a, well, a bitch. While Bosh is hated on and joked about, he still plays a vital role on this team; one that now has "not one..." but two titles, so he's not getting it all wrong.

Case in point were his uncharacteristic blocks of the Spurs' attempts to steal back a game he kept alive with his team's Playoff life flat-lining. Bosh had every reason not to own that moment - he'd been getting worked all game, played awful for most of the series, and was never particularly known as a strong defender or mentally fortuitous competitor. But he, against most odds, still managed to come up with unexpected contributions at the most vital of times. So for now, he should hold his head high and be happy. For once. At least until something like this happens.

3.The Legend of Danny Green

Danny Green's unconscious 3-point explosion over the first five games was a perfect storm of applicable catalysts. A very good shooter was often the last focus on D, and not only moved impeccably well on cuts to create space for himself, but happened to play on a team where the "extra pass" was a given.

What he did to Miami was spellbinding, not only in the obvious impressiveness of his record-shredding run, but the Heat's complete and utter inability to just stay at home against him, and eliminate a looming liability. Spo was tossing so much help in the paint against Duncan/Parker that Green could just break across a baseline underneath all the action and emerge on the other side with 10 feet of openness.

All it really took was the simple rationalization that "We've left this guy open and he's been their

leading scorer so far. He can't really create for himself or others off the dribble, so maybe if we just   acknowledge how he's burnt us so far and stop leaving him on the wing, he won't be as effective".

The results spoke for themselves. Green failed to develop any kind of consistent rhythm, settling for mostly-contested jumpers and looking like a small child lost at the mall whenever he put the ball on the floor. He shot a combined 2-19 over the Final two games while scoring fewer total points than he had in any lone Finals contest. Miami won both those games. Obviously the former didn't completely cause the latter, but it was certainly a massive contribution, and an obvious adjustment that came late - almost too late - for Miami. 

2. Effort vs. Execution
The simplest way of breaking down these Finals is that they were a war of constant adjustment with both teams putting each other in precarious positions - San Antonio by playing near-flawless basketball for large chunks of this series, and Miami by working their edge in athleticism when it was most critical.

I use the words "most critical" very carefully because through a lot of this season, particularly the Playoffs, it seemed as though Miami needed to be backed into a corner in order to truly play their best basketball. They often seemed almost arrogantly nonchalant in their lack of investment; everyone watching knew this team had a higher gear. To their credit though, they shifted into that gear consistently when they had to, and though their season had to be threatened several times, the brilliance with which the Heat played under the chaos of urgency, time and time again, was unreal.

As simple as it is to say the more talented team won, it would be a fallacy. Miami's Big 3 united and all played championship basketball for exactly one game of this series. Both Wade and Bosh were below 100% as they struggled to take the heat off LeBron (pun completely intended). What kept them going were King James, and a rotating cast of supporting players being thrown through Spoelstra's Finals Lineup Randomizer Machine, and each came up big at times.

And when it came down to it, Miami was able take enough hits and not only stay on their feet, but summon the will to take it to the next level against a team that gave them every reason to think they couldn't win.

1. The End of the Era

Lost amid the excitement of the Finals was that this would be David Stern's last trophy presentation. The legendary commissioner has grown the NBA's popularity immeasurably since taking over in 1984, re-engineered pro basketball into a marketable, exciting product. There couldn't have been a more fitting farewell for him than this ratings-smash of a seven-game, superstar-filled, thrillingly media-hyping series.

When Stern took over as commish, the NBA Finals were shown on tape delay as a more-than-slightly-racist American public was having trouble buying into a league of coked-out mostly-black athletes who brawled constantly and played for stats and contracts over wins and championships. Today - as he not-so-subtly pointed out before handing over the trophy that will one day bear his name - the Finals are watched by many millions in countries around the World. Much can be said of his tactics, but it's largely because of Michael Jordan David Stern that his beautiful game has grown and flourished, to be appreciated by so many globally; its dynamic popularity a reflection of its true entertainment value.

And so Stern rides off into the sunset (well, he doesn't officially retire until next February, but it has to be assumed Adam Silver will begin sliding into his new role) his run capped by an epic blockbuster he can proudly look upon as having fostered through decades of hard work. As basketball fans, we should be thankful for Stern. And for these Finals. It was one of the best ever, and a privilege to watch.