Defending the ABA

This week, it was reported that Kobe moved past Shaq into 5th place on the all-time NBA scoring list. Wrong. Kobe moved past Shaq into 7th place on the all-time scoring list, not 5th.

The NBA still does not officially recognize statistics from the ABA. I don’t understand why. When you look at a list of the top passers in NFL history, you see the pre-merger AFL numbers for Joe Namath and Len Dawson and George Blanda included in their career total. There is no AFL asterisk. There are not two separate lists, one saying “NFL Only Yardage” and one saying “NFL-AFL Combined Yardage.” That’s as it should be.

Granted, I’m an ABA apologist, but I think this is an easy argument for anyone to understand. The ABA was not a minor league. The ABA was, in many ways, miles ahead of the NBA. The style of play, the coaching, the promotions, the dunking--in the 60’s and 70’s the ABA was what the NBA became in the 80’s and 90’s. In fact, it took the NBA-ABA merger (or absorption, as some say) to jump start a boring and somewhat dying NBA.

Superb, Hall of Fame players like Julius Erving, Moses Malone, George Gervin, Dan Issel, Rick Barry, and others are constantly having their great careers either downgraded or altogether ignored by the NBA and it’s followers. The ABA points scored by Dr. J came against a solid level of competition in a professional league that eventually was absorbed by the NBA--there is no reason his 11,662 points as a Virginia Squire and New York Net should not count in the eyes of the NBA. Dr. J’s numbers dipped when he came into the NBA, but it was not because of the better competition--instead it had to do with his aging knees and the dynamics of his new Sixers team.

When the two leagues merged, the ABA leftovers immediately made their presence felt. The Nuggets and Spurs were perennial playoff teams. The first post-merger All-NBA team (’76-’77) featured four ABA players (David Thompson, Gervin, Erving and George McGinnis) on the first and second teams. The next year, 3 of the 5 on the first team were from the ABA (Erving, Gervin, Thompson).

There is no doubt in my mind that the last dominant ABA team, the ’74-’76 New York Nets (who won two titles in three years), would have given the mid-70’s NBA Champion Warriors and Celtics a run for their money, or would have flat-out beaten them in a seven game series. The Nets featured Erving, John Williamson, the at-times brilliant Brian Taylor, Rich Jones, and the original Dunking Dutchman Swen Nater. They were more athletic than either the Celtics or Warriors, and, they were coached just as well (if not better) by Kevin Loughery than Boston or Golden State were by Tom Heinsohn and Al Attles.

Kobe Bryant is 7th, not 5th on the all-time scoring list. The NBA chooses to ignore the ABA point totals of Dr. J and Moses Malone, both of whom scored more points in their careers than Kobe has. Dirk is 26th on the all-time scoring list, not 21st. Dirk is behind Erving, Malone, Issel, Gervin and Artis Gilmore, not ahead of them. Gilmore’s 7,169 ABA rebounds should not be ignored (as he had to work for those against sometimes more athletic and all-out meaner front lines than he would have faced in the NBA). Gilmore should be recognized as the 5th leading rebounder of all-time--instead, the NBA ranks Gilmore 42nd. What a crime.

In November of 2010, Tim Duncan was celebrated as the Spurs all-time leading scorer, passing George Gervin with his 20,709th point. In fact, Duncan still hasn’t caught Gervin, whose own ABA-rooted organization doesn’t even acknowledge the ABA numbers put up by the Iceman. Ridiculous.

It’s time somebody stepped up and made the case for the ABA greats. I’m happy to carry the torch. Sorry Kobe, you’re 7th--you’ve still got about 1,500 more points to score before you pass Julius Erving into 5th place on the all-time scoring list.

Is One Enough for Cuban?

I’ve never seen Mark Cuban happier or prouder than when he was standing behind Barack Obama at the White House earlier this month. Cuban’s title team was there, accepting accolades from the President. I was happy for Cuban. No professional sports owner has had to endure so much pain en route to a championship. He deserved to bask in that glorious moment.

Yet, as I was watching the President butcher Dirk’s name, I couldn’t help but wonder if the Mavs would ever get to go to D.C. again--outside of a scheduled game against the Wizards?

Something else I can’t answer: is Mark Cuban satisfied with just one title? Or, is he as hungry today to win another one as he was in quest of the first one? Human nature would say that he is not. However, there are those rare, ultra-competitive animals in the world of sports who are able to operate outside of normal human nature. Jordan and Kobe. Nicklaus and Woods. Brady and Montana. Merckx and Armstrong (had to work some cycling names in--sue me). They crave wins. They crave championships. They are never satisfied. They are always looking for a new edge. They don’t want to just break records, they want to put those records out of reach.

Does Mark Cuban feel that way? Does Dirk? Here’s cutting them some slack if they don’t. It was long, arduous climb for both to the top of the mountain. So what if they don’t want to summit Everest again? Isn’t once enough?

For most Mavs fans, I would say the answer is yes--once in enough. Dirk cemented his legacy with his championship. Cuban confirmed his methods. Mavs fans will die happy, especially getting a title in a year when most never thought it possible. There are few things more satisfying that that. But Jordan’s tummy wouldn’t be full--not even close. Is Cuban’s?

What makes me question Cuban’s desire at this point is the Tyson Chandler situation. I’m not saying bring back last year’s team. You can move on without Barea, Butler, Peja, Brewer and Stevenson. But short of getting Dwight Howard to move to Dallas, you can not move on with the same ambition without Chandler.

Chemistry matters in the NBA. The 2004 Lakers proved that by losing to a Pistons team that they should have blow out of the water. Even last year's Miami team showed that shear talent can't beat great chemistry. And nobody brought the chemistry of the Mavs together like Chandler. By all accounts, he was the most important chemistry add (on and off the court) in Dallas history.

This is not to say Chandler is Howard or Shaq or Kareem. But the Mavericks searched for 30 years to find a center that could play defense with a passion and an infectious spark. Chandler became the first Maverick center ever named to the NBA’s All-Defense team (and finished 3rd overall in the Defensive Player of the Year voting--something no Mavericks player at any position has ever sniffed). Dirk called Chandler the team’s MVP (obviously Dirk was the MVP, but point taken). Observers around the league agreed that without Chandler, Dallas would have had a hard time winning the title.

The annual NBA GM’s poll was released this week. Their pick to win the West? OKC got 69% of the vote, followed by the Lakers (17%), Portland (7%) and San Antonio (7%). Dallas got no votes? Does that perhaps indicate the value of Chandler? I’ve never seen a defending champion dismissed by the experts quite like this, outside of the Bulls post-Jordan.

Chandler almost single-handedly changed the defensive culture in Dallas. For years the Mavs had good teams, but could never win a title because they couldn’t play front-line defense. Every year we would hear about “the layup drill” it was for the opponents attacking the Dallas basket. Over those years, Cuban overpaid a host of underwhelming centers (Bradley, LaFrentz, Eschmeyer, Dampier, Diop, Haywood). So why not overpay the center that finally locks down the middle and helps you win a title? It doesn’t make a lot of sense. Is Chandler still a health risk? Yes. Was it a lot of money for a so-called role player? Yes, but to call Chandler a "role player" is to greatly demean the role that he played in Dallas. Would it have made the Mavs a strong title contender this season? Yes. Are they as good without him? Clearly not.

Maybe Cuban believes that last year was a lightning-in-a-bottle season. Maybe he thinks they got lucky and he doesn’t want to press that luck. The West was down, the Heat hadn’t figured out how to win yet, and a magical chemistry overcame the Mavs for a few months. Serendipity, as Jerry would say. And, maybe he’d be right about all of that.

Maybe Cuban believes that he’ll land Howard and Williams--that those two are dead-set on coming to Dallas to play with an aging Dirk and a young...well, a young...Roddy B? Maybe he’ll pull it off. I would never say never when Cuban is involved.

If saying goodbye to Chandler means saying hello to Howard and Williams, then it was obviously worth parting with Chandler. Anything short of that, however, will leave us all wondering if the Mavs could have squeezed another title out of the Dirk era. Perhaps that doesn’t matter to a lot of folks around these parts. I wish I knew if, deep down, it mattered to Cuban--or if that one trip to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was enough.

Obsessed with 26.2

As a life-long cyclist, I never had much time for (or much interest in) running. I did, however, always wonder if I could run a marathon. Once I turned 40, I decided to give it a try. This past Sunday (two weeks shy of my 46th birthday), I completed my 8th marathon. I am obsessed with the 26.2 mile distance, and there are many reasons why.

There is a fascinating science behind running a marathon as fast as you can. So many little things go into such a big effort. My first marathon (White Rock, '07) was a blur. I was so nervous about the race that I slept only 45 minutes the night before. Once the race began, the energy gels I had tucked in my waistband immediately fell to the pavement. I started to fall apart at the halfway point. I ran in a panic the entire way. I finished in 3 hours, 29 minutes--shy of my goal of 3:20 (my Boston Marathon qualifying time). I couldn't walk for a few days. I was only starting to understand the difficulty of the process.

Experienced marathon friends of mine had told me "You'll learn something every time you run a marathon, and that'll make you better in your next one." Indeed, over the last few years, through trial and error, I've learned a great deal about my body and my mind. I've learned what kind of training works for me and what doesn't. I've learned what kind of diet works for me and what doesn't. I've learned what kind of mental approach works and what doesn't. It's one big, ongoing experiment, and that's what makes it so much fun. There is nothing more exciting than lining up at the start on race day knowing you are 3 hours away from finding out if your methods and theories will work or not--and finding out just how far you can push your body and your mind. The results can be euphoric or depressing, and that's the beauty of it all.

I got a little better in my second race (Athens, OH, '08). A 3:25, but I fell apart with two miles to go--I had massive hamstring cramp that brought me to a standstill. My third marathon was a disaster (Eugene, OR, '09). I was coming off of a stress fracture in the fall, and my training in the spring had been subpar. But, I talked myself into thinking I could run a 3:20 because I had performed well in some tune-up races. But the marathon is such a different beast from any other kind of foot race. If it were 20 miles long instead of 26.2, it would be considerably easier. Something happens at mile 20. They say the 20 mile mark is halfway in a marathon, and they're right. That day in Eugene I hit the wall so hard at mile 20 that I could barely walk. My hotel was on the race route at mile 22, and with my eyes crossed and my legs and brain feeling like jelly, I quit the race and headed straight to my room.

That fall, I ran the New York City Marathon. I went in with few expectations, and finally ran a 3:20. One of the happiest days of my life--I had finally qualified to run Boston, which I did in '10 and '11. My times in my last few marathons have always been around 3:20, with a best of 3:18 at Grandma's Marathon in Duluth last June. At age 45, I was starting to wonder if I could go much faster. I knew that at some point I was going to start to slow down, I just didn't know when.

So, this fall, I changed a lot--the ongoing experiment continued. After a huge plate of ribs in August--and an afternoon of feeling like crap--I decided to change my diet. I cut out almost all red meat, chicken, pork and dairy. I ate more fresh fruits and vegetables. I also changed my training--instead of running my long, 20 mile training runs at a fast pace, I ran them easy. That plan left my legs fresh for my speed workouts during the week, and it also led to fresh feeling legs on race day. I discovered that I was wearing myself out during training, and often arriving at the start line in less than optimal shape.

I also changed my mindset. I started racing without a watch. This was a major move. I ran a personal best in the half marathon in October with no watch--I just went on feel. It was awesome--very liberating. I recommend it to anyone. I will never run another race with a watch again.

I also read an interview with legendary triathlete Mark Allen (Inside Triathlon, Nov '11) that changed my way of thinking in a race. Allen dealt with a lot of mental demons early in his career. He couldn't ignore the negative thoughts during a race--when he was feeling bad, his mind kept telling him to quit (the same voices most of us hear). He finally figured out how to deal with the bad times during a race--he had to train his mind to to find a certain place:

"Once you give in to the negative thoughts during a race, you almost always slow down--you're almost always done. But, I found it too hard to keep pumping myself up with positive thoughts in a long event. The best place to be is between the two thoughts. It's the most powerful place. There is a silence, and in that silence you find the answers to the problems you may be having. Or you'll just feel an ease, a grace, a calm.

If you can find that space where your mind goes quiet then you don't need a positive thought to keep going--you're not thinking and analyzing and thinking if it's good or not good. You're just there putting one foot in front of the other, and all of the sudden you can feel this ease wash all over you--all over the muscles in your whole body. And then you're not really attached to whether you do your best time or don't do your best time--you're just giving your best effort that you have. And when you're in that space, all of the sudden possibility just opens up for you. And you can just feel it. You feel like "wow, maybe I can" even though you're not really worried if you do or don't. It's just this space that's like awareness--you're aware of everything going on around you but you're calm and not talking and not judging."

Wonderful advice. Advice that I put into practice last weekend. I ran the California International Marathon in Sacramento. I was feeling great in mind and body. We had perfect weather: clear, calm and 40 degrees. I ran with the 3:10 pace group until I had to let them go at mile 20 (halfway!). My goal was to run something under 3:15, but after mile 20 I had no watch and no pace group, so I had no idea what pace I was on. I ran on feel, as hard as I could, just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other--trying to find the place between the two thoughts. I finished in 3:13:38--a five minute personal best. I was elated. I was also very satisfied to know that my methods and theories had been validated--and happy to know that at almost 46 years old, I wasn't slowing down yet.

So, the obsession with the distance and the process continues. I've told myself that I won't stop running marathons as long as I keep getting faster. So how much faster can I go? Well, if I can keep chopping five minutes off of my time each race, I'll be able to run a near-world record time of 2:05 or so by my 60th birthday. Something to shoot for.