Friday, July 18, 2014

The Ultimate Basketball Player of the Near Future

(SCENE, a den, near a roaring fire. Corbin is wearing a sweater and handsome slacks and reading "In Search of Lost Time." One of the middle volumes, so you know that he has gotten through a few.)

CORBIN: Oh, hello! You are there! I was just reading a book by an old friend. (Sets down his book on the end table and winks. You realize this is not the first time he has read Proust, and are summarily impressed. He begins watering all of his house plants.) You've probably come here today expecting some sort of basketball related content. Normally I would be angry that my butler, Dave Daverson, who works here in my Reading and Science Dirigible, let you into my innermost sanctum where I dream up the articles you read here. But I just finished some important research (Corbin takes off his sweater, revealing an attractive but not showy upper body and puts on a lab coat.) into the future of NBA Basketball Players.

(Corbin takes you into a lab with many chalkbords covered in pictures of basketball plays, drawing of basketball players (One drawing is of Brittany Griner, scrawled out next to her, "Grinder? Grimer? Greener?") and important stats about basketball.)

I here at Biscutball, which is absolutely spelled correctly, has been "Jamming out" some computations about what an ideal "Big man" will look like in the future, and I've come up with an answer that will shock you. Please brace yourself.

(Waits. You grab hold of a solid object.)

Thank you.The Big man of the very near future, as determined by my extensive research:

-Elite Defensive Player, Perennial All-Defensive
-Sets good picks and can receive roll passes
-Shoots 43% from three above the top of the key

You and I have both seen the Spurs in action. Crisp passing. Open shots. The elimination of unnecessary movement. In this a sentimentalist sees the past. But I have seen the future. The expulsion of the unnecessary. The shooting guard already doesn't doesn't live here anymore, dribbling into the lane and taking his midrange shots or making his postem' ups. Observe the obscenity of the former Gods:

 (Via Nylon Calculus)

Horrifying. Where are the threes? Who is making space? Michael Jordan should thank God every day that teams weren't allowed to zone up on him, because there would have been NOTHING he could do to punish them with this anemic display of three point shooting. Don't let your children this next sentence. They gave this man an MVP Award for his performance. If America's youth every discover this shot chart, I can't even imagine what will happen to this country's three point shooting prowess.

The shooting guard is already dead at the future's hands: see people losing their minds in the street over Klay Thompson or suggest that Lance Stevenson is "Pretty underrated, I think." The Phoenix Suns have all but done away with the position altogether. They will likely start Goron Dragic and Eric Bledsoe at their guard spots next year and back them up with basketball hero Isaiah Thomas, a guard rotation where the 2 Guard lives in pine exile.

The future will come next for the big man. For too long we have humored the fantasies of Dwight Howard, camping out in the lane, heaving up tragic hook shots, getting stripped when the defense zones up on him. This is the king's ransom he has demanded for his excellent defense and rebounding, but someday a hero will arise who will provide all of these things without insisting on "Getting my touches on the block."

Just imagine: a massive wall of a man, sets up a pick above the foul line. The defense is already panicking: "We can't drop back on this fellow!" they cry to the heavens, quaking in their boots out of fear for his 43% three-point shooting. But then the lane is open for his guard to just, whoop, finish right there at the rim! Perhaps we switch!? They yell, losing their composure. But they know in their hearts that unless their big man is fleet of foot, he will fail in trying to contain the guard penetration, and their guard defender is going to b helpless against the height and wingspan of the mighty oaken man who drills top of the key shots as if he was granted a 43% stroke from the Gods. Should we double someone? Yes, but who? Oh no, they passed right out of it and no one could recover in time! The coach on the sidelines begins to cry, the pressure finally breaking him. He hasn't seen his beautiful children in months. He has no solutions to this problem. Is there any problem he can solve any more? The opposing team submits to mass hysteria, flailing around like a pack of Meyers Leonards.

Not to mention the fact that our man, spotted up at the above top of the key, hardly has to run to get back and defend the basket from a transition attempt. You could get your wings as deep in the corners as you want without worrying about fast break points. Infinite space on offense, infinite insurance on defense. No more wasted movements. Our children will never have to be bored to tears by grinding in the post. They will be happier and more well adjusted. A new commitment to voluntarism will become the new American normal. Gentler forms of capitalism. MVP Awards an Nobel Prizes for the man who abandoned the post and shot 43% from threes above the key. He retires at the age of 55, the greatest player who ever lived. Michael Jordan disappears from memory forever.

(Corbin wipes a tear from his eyes.) Anyway, that's just one man's dream. Thank you for indulging me today. Come into the kitchen, my wife has made some fried asparagus spears for us to enjoy.

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