Darwinian basketball selection
The intensity of the playoff environment rivals the best shows on the Discovery Channel and Animal Planet. Each game is a display of natural selection and natural instincts, with the fittest survivng and the rest left thinking of the future.
By Mason Williams Sports Central Columnist
When May and June return each year, the NBA playoffs dominate the television airwaves, the print media, sports radio, and the weekday watercooler conversations at many a workplace. Themes that permeate the playoff atmosphere develop in each of these arenas.
During the Chicago Bulls' run of titles in the '90s, a dominant theme was the invincibility and genius of Michael Jordan. When the Spurs won their title in 1999, the absence of M.J. became the theme. Last year, throughout the playoffs the word "heart" must have been used 50 times per day on ESPN, in newspapers, and at every barber shop. Now, we are knee deep in the second round of playoff and the time has come to select this year's winning theme.
Revisiting last year's "heart" theme provides an excellent launching point for this year's journey to the championship. After each victory and each loss along the way toward losing the championship series, showers of praise rained from above concerning the amount of heart that team captain Allen Iverson and his scrappy bunch of 76er-mates displayed.
When Iverson shot down the Bucks in the Eastern Conference Finals, it was attributed to his heart. If Iverson fell, it wasn't his legs that enabled him to stand up, it was his heart. When Shaq and the Lakers pounded him and his crew, somehow the applause for their courageous demonstration of heart made it seem like they didn't lose, even though they did.
There was so much fervor concerning heart that it seemed as if a new biological structure had been discovered. James Watson and Francis Crick discovered the double helix in the 1950s and in 2001, we finally discovered the heart. Everyone in the NBA has heart. Every member of the phylum Vertebrata has a heart. People who dedicate their life to a pursuit of excellence in any given field are inevitably filled with heart and determination. In addition, I've heard that NBA players actually need a heart to pump blood through their bodies while they run, dribble, and shoot. Everyone has heart or a heart.
Heart is passed out in the body shop like soggy hamburgers in a high school cafeteria. It's easy to get one, just get in line. What many players didn't receive in their genetic lunch pail was instinct. Instinct separates the champs from the rest of the pack. We are confronted with one of the basic tenets of Darwinian Theory, natural selection. The strong survive to pass on their genes into the gene pool called the championship while the weak lose in the playoffs and hold their hearts in their palms as they mope their way back home.
A predatory instinct is vital to the success of a team as they venture toward the championship. This instinct comes in two forms, individual and collective. Certain players demand the ball in crucial situations and believe they will slay their opponent single handedly. In Game 2 against the Spurs, Kobe Bryant made a costly turnover in the final seconds and the Lakers lost.
However, it was his natural instinct to believe that he would defeat the Spurs that placed him in that situation. He failed in Game 2, but in Friday evening's Game 3, Bryant led the Lakers' fourth quarter charge that stopped the Spurs.
If we turn the clock back to Kobe's rookie season when he air-balled three consecutive shots in the final seconds of an elimination game against the Jazz, the seeds of his instinct are clearly visible. Bryant, then 18-years-old, called for the ball and received it not once, but three times. That's three times that his older, more experienced teammates passed up on being the hero or the goat. Eventually, Kobe developed the skill to make the final shot, but he already had the instinct.
Let's take another example of a character defining moment for another player. Chris Webber is undoubtedly among the most naturally-gifted players to ever play the game. Despite his talent and skill, Webber's broad shoulders seem to shrink in the deciding moments of games. Webber does not have a keen predatory instinct and this holds him back from true greatness. Instead of commanding the spotlight at the end of the game, Webber is content to stand off to the side of the stage. He is a great talent with a role player mentality.
The genesis of Webber's self-doubt can be traced back to the 1993 NCAA Championship game that pitted Webber and the Wolverines of Michigan against Donald Williams and the North Carolina Tar Heels. When the game was on the line, Webber looked to be bailed out by a timeout that he did not have and did not need to use. He called the phantom timeout and it cost his team the victory. Look closely into his eyes at the end of Kings games and the same look of doubt that he wore at Michigan is still there.
There is an interesting dynamic in the collective, or team, variation of predatory instinct. Not all teams need to have one superstar player with tremendous instincts in order to be ruthless as a team. The Detroit Pistons "Bad Boys" were not the greatest collection of talent, but when they had a team down, they made sure they finished the job. There is no time to allow teams to comeback from 20-point deficits in a seven game series.
In samurai terms, once the opponent is weakened, it is best to strike swiftly and end the battle. The opponent that is allowed a second chance in battle will inevitably incur more success the second time around.
In Games 1 and 2 of the Spurs/Lakers series, the Spurs had the Lakers against the ropes several times and never delivered the ultimate blow. In both games, the Lakers' confidence rejuvenated them and their instinct overcame the adversity. By Game 3, the Spurs did not look confident even though they led for much of the game. When the fourth quarter arrived, the Spurs appeared to be ready to lose again instead of rising to the occasion. The last four minutes of the game were a perfect case study on the theme of basketball instinct.
The 2001 playoffs introduced us to, and then bombarded us with, the idea of heart. Hopefully, by the end of the 2002 playoffs, we will have the same thoughts about predatory instincts and Darwinian Theory as it pertains to basketball. Next year, yet another new theme will emerge from this year's findings. The scientific method continues.
Article courtesy of Sports Central.
When May and June return each year, the NBA playoffs dominate the television airwaves, the print media, sports radio, and the weekday watercooler conversations at many a workplace. Themes that permeate the playoff atmosphere develop in each of these arenas.
During the Chicago Bulls' run of titles in the '90s, a dominant theme was the invincibility and genius of Michael Jordan. When the Spurs won their title in 1999, the absence of M.J. became the theme. Last year, throughout the playoffs the word "heart" must have been used 50 times per day on ESPN, in newspapers, and at every barber shop. Now, we are knee deep in the second round of playoff and the time has come to select this year's winning theme.
Revisiting last year's "heart" theme provides an excellent launching point for this year's journey to the championship. After each victory and each loss along the way toward losing the championship series, showers of praise rained from above concerning the amount of heart that team captain Allen Iverson and his scrappy bunch of 76er-mates displayed.
When Iverson shot down the Bucks in the Eastern Conference Finals, it was attributed to his heart. If Iverson fell, it wasn't his legs that enabled him to stand up, it was his heart. When Shaq and the Lakers pounded him and his crew, somehow the applause for their courageous demonstration of heart made it seem like they didn't lose, even though they did.
There was so much fervor concerning heart that it seemed as if a new biological structure had been discovered. James Watson and Francis Crick discovered the double helix in the 1950s and in 2001, we finally discovered the heart. Everyone in the NBA has heart. Every member of the phylum Vertebrata has a heart. People who dedicate their life to a pursuit of excellence in any given field are inevitably filled with heart and determination. In addition, I've heard that NBA players actually need a heart to pump blood through their bodies while they run, dribble, and shoot. Everyone has heart or a heart.
Heart is passed out in the body shop like soggy hamburgers in a high school cafeteria. It's easy to get one, just get in line. What many players didn't receive in their genetic lunch pail was instinct. Instinct separates the champs from the rest of the pack. We are confronted with one of the basic tenets of Darwinian Theory, natural selection. The strong survive to pass on their genes into the gene pool called the championship while the weak lose in the playoffs and hold their hearts in their palms as they mope their way back home.
A predatory instinct is vital to the success of a team as they venture toward the championship. This instinct comes in two forms, individual and collective. Certain players demand the ball in crucial situations and believe they will slay their opponent single handedly. In Game 2 against the Spurs, Kobe Bryant made a costly turnover in the final seconds and the Lakers lost.
However, it was his natural instinct to believe that he would defeat the Spurs that placed him in that situation. He failed in Game 2, but in Friday evening's Game 3, Bryant led the Lakers' fourth quarter charge that stopped the Spurs.
If we turn the clock back to Kobe's rookie season when he air-balled three consecutive shots in the final seconds of an elimination game against the Jazz, the seeds of his instinct are clearly visible. Bryant, then 18-years-old, called for the ball and received it not once, but three times. That's three times that his older, more experienced teammates passed up on being the hero or the goat. Eventually, Kobe developed the skill to make the final shot, but he already had the instinct.
Let's take another example of a character defining moment for another player. Chris Webber is undoubtedly among the most naturally-gifted players to ever play the game. Despite his talent and skill, Webber's broad shoulders seem to shrink in the deciding moments of games. Webber does not have a keen predatory instinct and this holds him back from true greatness. Instead of commanding the spotlight at the end of the game, Webber is content to stand off to the side of the stage. He is a great talent with a role player mentality.
The genesis of Webber's self-doubt can be traced back to the 1993 NCAA Championship game that pitted Webber and the Wolverines of Michigan against Donald Williams and the North Carolina Tar Heels. When the game was on the line, Webber looked to be bailed out by a timeout that he did not have and did not need to use. He called the phantom timeout and it cost his team the victory. Look closely into his eyes at the end of Kings games and the same look of doubt that he wore at Michigan is still there.
There is an interesting dynamic in the collective, or team, variation of predatory instinct. Not all teams need to have one superstar player with tremendous instincts in order to be ruthless as a team. The Detroit Pistons "Bad Boys" were not the greatest collection of talent, but when they had a team down, they made sure they finished the job. There is no time to allow teams to comeback from 20-point deficits in a seven game series.
In samurai terms, once the opponent is weakened, it is best to strike swiftly and end the battle. The opponent that is allowed a second chance in battle will inevitably incur more success the second time around.
In Games 1 and 2 of the Spurs/Lakers series, the Spurs had the Lakers against the ropes several times and never delivered the ultimate blow. In both games, the Lakers' confidence rejuvenated them and their instinct overcame the adversity. By Game 3, the Spurs did not look confident even though they led for much of the game. When the fourth quarter arrived, the Spurs appeared to be ready to lose again instead of rising to the occasion. The last four minutes of the game were a perfect case study on the theme of basketball instinct.
The 2001 playoffs introduced us to, and then bombarded us with, the idea of heart. Hopefully, by the end of the 2002 playoffs, we will have the same thoughts about predatory instincts and Darwinian Theory as it pertains to basketball. Next year, yet another new theme will emerge from this year's findings. The scientific method continues.
Article courtesy of Sports Central.

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