Let Shaq's Legacy Stand on Its Own



GREAT photo: via InsideHoops (and somewhere else)

Shaq retires and within nanoseconds, the sports world goes into a tizzy for good, comical, awful and amazingly predictable reasons.

·    The good: fans of all likes come up with their favorite Shaq moments. The smack talking through the media rings for some while the absurd backboard breaking dunks and his All-Star, run-the-point plays stick out.

·    The comical: though he’ll be missed on the parquet floors around the NBA, it was a chance to revisit some of his great and not-so-great offerings to the entertainment world. (You still can’t stop the reign, though.)

·    The awful: Shaq appeared to have split temperaments – the jolly court jester that was revered the world over and the surly, insecure (and apparently, philandering) side of him earned some ire over the years.

·    The amazingly predictable: as soon as he made the announcement, immediately, people asked the questions about his legacy.

It’s the latter that catches my attention more than the rest.

Why do we even need to rank him?

Shaquille O’Neal is one of the best players of all time. You know it, your mother and father know it, your siblings know it, your neighbors know it…. Heck, everyone who ever held a basketball in their hands for two seconds knows it. His combination of offensive awareness and imposing size was unheard of until he arrived in the NBA; even against the likes of Wilt Chamberlain, who was a physical force in the smaller and seemingly grounded floor game of the 1950s and 1960s. Four championships, Rookie of the Year, 1999 MVP and Finals MVP honors, perennial All-Star appearances, 14-time All-NBA selection, three-time All-Defense… he’s a legend in his own right.

Yet, this idea that he has to be ranked among the all-time greats perturbs me a bit. Let’s be for real, it’s not as if extra cleaning is guaranteed for his Hall of Fame plaque when we do such a thing.

Shaq’s style blended brute force with a shockingly soft touch around the rim. His size at 7-foot-1 and 325 pounds at his absolute prime with the Lakers made it a chore to battle him on the boards, despite not being lauded as a great rebounding center. Defensively, he could have been an absolute monster if he cared – save for the Lakers three-peat where Phil Jackson made him give a hoot – but who in their right minds wanted to challenge him on a layup? He never really had to display a full array of offensive skills like other men in the pivot, but he was highly capable of knocking down a few jumpers and was an underrated passer for someone who demanded the ball as often as he did.

And that’s sort of what stands out to me about O’Neal’s career. He was DOMINANT for someone who didn’t show the full repertoire or maximize his total potential. Then again, he was DOMINANT for someone who never had to display every basketball move conceivable. In his formative years with Orlando, while he put up absurd numbers, he was still being schooled by veteran centers that gave him clinics on brutality. His petulance aside, it’s hard to imagine that he didn’t pick up a few pointers from each of the players he combated with, respectfully or not.

O’Neal was an uncanny player not only for his offensive greatness, but offensive greatness despite flaws. We always said,”imagine if he hit his free throws”. Well, he won four titles, received numerous individual accolades and made over $200 million on the court while compiling an awful career free throw percentage (52.7%). Unlike baseball, that one flaw isn’t going to keep him away from the Hall of Fame for years and years.

He played with power in a league that tried its best to emphasize finesse; the physicality of the 80s and 90s stripped the Association of easy-to-market, but unrealistic to achieve beauty. When he claimed himself to be the LCL – Last Center Left – he was right in more ways than one. The NBA for most of its history was ruled by the pivot from George Mikan to Shaq himself; spanning six decades of letting the big man go to work when it counts. Even the Jordan years were run by the bigs in most other cities; whether it was at the center or power forward position as most teams ran their offenses through them.

He played in the second half of the careers of other legendary centers in Patrick Ewing, Hakeem Olajuwon and David Robinson while also adjusting to a changing league. In fact, he was catalyst to the single greatest change in the NBA since the three-point line; the restricted zone. Even among those phenomenal players – throw all the greats in the league’s sixty-five year history – how many forced the league to change the rule book and court parameters? A handful.

The story is all there. He was a unique player who bridged across two staunchly different eras of the NBA. His impact to the game was so strong that some in the media still believed that he was the final piece to title hopes for Cleveland last year. They believed that even for ten minutes a game for Boston this year, Shaq could have helped raised Banner #18. Those last two seasons of his career are a testament to how much of a legend he is. His stature on the game allowed for the iconic past to be larger than reality.

For some reason, when a player with a substantial career in a team sport retires, we immediately go into debate mode about her or his credentials and standing. We’re supposed to give Shaq some sort of place atop other greats at his position while likely overhyping or underwhelming the contributions of his contemporaries. We’ve already had enough people overreact and cry foul about the potential of another likely Hall of Famer. Do we have to do go through this again?

He stands on his own without any posturing from us. He doesn’t need #TwitterSports debates that are full of manipulated stats and name dropping. Nor does he need the damning articles that bring up his more sinister side. He doesn’t need validation among anyone, not even his peers. All he needs to know is when to show up to the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Massachusetts and what time will his induction speech will be.

Say What?!?!: I posted this on what’s an important day. It’s been ten years. As mentioned on ‘The Exchange’ on Tuesday, there’s been no greater influence in my life than my parents and no greater champion of the cause than my dad. Instead of writing something new, I figured this would be a good time to take you back. Proud to be your son, Bobby.

WTF?

The epitome of the Internet's favorite acronym occured during the New York Knicks/Phoenix Suns pregame on the MSG Network.

Apparently, Shaquille O'Neal is a big kid. A seven-foot-one, 325-pound kid with a ridiculous amount of toys, gold and cash. Here's the proof (it may be on a HD television, but these aren't HD pictures).

So, let's observe this: that's a custom made Freightliner with the Superman logo adorning the grill and the inside. Several sub-woofers and a satellite dish (somewhat obstructed).

When one of the parking attendants at the US Airways Center greeted the center, his head came up to the lower rearview mirror. O'Neal himself could have flossed his teeth in the upper mirror.

I know that I'm supposed to be a serious sportswriter and all and I've seen athletes in their whips. Yet, this is just fascinating. Far better than a MetroCard, CharlieCard or riding the BART.

Come to think of it, it's Shaqtastic.



Say What?!?!: Earlier this evening, you may have briefly caught a post that was a rundown of last night's WWE Armageddon pay-per-view. While it wasn't my work (despite being a wrestling fan), somehow, it was posted on Scribe instead of another blog from the relative of a friend. Stuff happens. This also presents a nice plug for someone, doesn't it? So in addition to the work of a very good friend, JP Prag of 411mania.com, here's another link for you wrestling/'rasslin fans; Slammetie & Ropes Wrestleblog 20X9

Ethic

If you noticed a day ago, there was a slight error in the poll. Unintentional, of course, but bad enough all the same. Because of general curiosity from those who come upon Scribe, the poll will remain here until April 1st.

One of the strangest and most baffling occurences in sports takes place in barbershops, workplace kitchenettes and message boards across the globe. It's the moment when the mere mention of a particular athlete's name invites the most absurd comments about his or her work ethic.

When did Shaquille O'Neal first become out-of-shape and fat?

When did Tyler Hansborough become the hardest working basketball player in the rich history of college basketball?

When did Vince Carter or his third cousin, Tracy McGrady ever look as if they were dogging it?

When did the now-retired Brett Favre become the toughest player to ever strap on a football helmet?

When did the Williams sisters

When did Miguel Cabrera or Andruw Jones fall to the "one Angus Deluxe away from eating his baseball career away" category?

These are just a few of the many instances where we tend to believe that a player isn't giving his all or a player is so passionate that - to borrow from the excellent new Nike campaign's slogan - his better is better than someone else's in terms of work ethic. Yet, there is something inherently wrong about trying to gauge someone's efforts on the playing surface.


Well, there are a few things wrong with this, to be real with you.

First of all, despite the great recreational runners and pick-up ballers that read Scribe, fans in general are not exactly embodiments of athletic excellence. In fact, the most athletic thing most of us actually does is roll out of bed. This isn't intended to be a slam or a mock at all, so much that this brings up a point. There are very few people in the world that can carry their athletic aspirations beyond their high school gymnasiums and neighborhood parks. It took some sort of persistence to be the best around the block, even if we probably had a good game against them at some point. Yet, they had desire and enough talent to build upon to the next level, from AAU and high school to some form of college (four-year or JuCo) to the elite professional stratosphere. Some work so hard to be so good that is seems easy and effortless when in fact, it took years of crafting their skills.

Secondly, these statements tend to be regurgitated from media reports and commentary, but rarely understood and questioned. Sports media has a lengthy history of members who made names for themselves by being vitriolic or overly flattering of certain athletes and leagues. Yet, most of this happened with only editors and stockholders as the defining check and balance of their expressions. Now, with immediate response from fans and colleagues through readily avaiable media, you would think that media heads and players-turned-analysts would be held a little more accountable or at the very least, be more discriminating with their opinions and word choice. Sadly, nothing has really changed except that there are more people involved. Sadly, there are more people believing the hype or repeating what they've heard. In the words of SPJ, "just turn off (insert media outlet here) and think for yourself".

Temperment plays a significant role in how a player's ethic is received. Think of how suddenly, Eli Manning has a legion of fans believing in him after his Giants' Super Bowl win last month. Manning had been derided by beat writers (not this one), columnists, talkies (again, not this one) and TV analysts for not having the personality of a quarterback who would kill his mother for a victory. His body language showed nonchalance when the Giants, notably he, struggled over the past two years. He was never found to scream in complete lunacy as Dan Marino did in his career, yet, even in good or great games outside of Super Bowl XLII, you didn't see a Tiger Woods triumphant fist pump, either. Because there was nothing for the camera to pan to, did this mean that he didn't care or that he wasn't into the moment? Did this mean that Manning did not put his work in during the week to prepare for Sundays? Manning's successful final weeks should serve as a reminder that you don't need to be a "rah-rah" athlete to win, let alone play at all.

The last reason for the absurdity of questioning a player's work ethic comes from something that has no statistic behind it: outside influence. How often do we hear about the player's personal life - for better or worse - seeping into their play? Family concerns, bad breakups and divorces, legal woes, adjusting to new locations - all of these play tremendous roles in how a player appears during a game. We may not learn of all of these travails publicly, but we still mouth off without having the slightest clue. Case in point: the infamous Allen Iverson "Practice" press conference. While he has laughed about it since, reading the full transcript should give you a glimpse of what was going on in his head at the time. Yet, when he was on the court, it was impossible to say that he wasn't giving his full effort; sometimes, you can say he put too much of himself on the line at the expense of his physical health and teammates' development.

Athletes receive the recognition that they do for a reason, whether many in society approve of this or not. Where most of us were limited by life-altering decisions or by lack of talent or physicque or just didn't have aspirations to take our games to the next level, any athlete who is playing in a highly-recognizable league has to have had a strong work ethic to get there. There are few people on earth who are willing to use their entire physical being to play a game or for a chance to make a living from doing so. To assume how hard they work is a little difficult considering that we're just observers, not actually playing with them.

Or maybe that's just one person's opinion.

So you probably think this post is hogwash and that's okay. After all, we might be right when we say that someone isn't trying hard enough or one player 'just wants it more' than another. Yet, for as much as we pick up on body language and the insiders tell us about what may be going on between games, do we really know?

Doubt it.

Say What?!?!: I knew cheerleaders were hardcore... well, except the ones I knew in high school (I kid, I kid). Yet, now, I have come to an important conclusion. Even though they're no joke athletically, they're just nuts. What a cheerleader does scares me more than the prospect of going man-to-man against Bruce Smith in his prime. Dead serious.
Speaking of regurgitation, another nugget from Newsweek- I wish I can give you an appropriate description to how much I HATE this phrase. I say appropriate because despite my colorful in-person language, I prefer to not dig in the nasty word thesaurus on Scribe, even if it is the Internet. So thank you, T.O., sports media, news media, the political arena and every working space in the United States for taking this phrase to such insightly levels.