THIRTEEN
THE WINE CELLAR
TIME TO PUT the jigsaw pieces together and make a puzzle.
The puzzle revolves around the Martian Premise. Let’s say basketball-playing aliens land on earth, blow things up Independence Day–style, then challenge us to a seven-game series for control of the universe. And let’s say we have access to the time machine from Lost, allowing us to travel back Sarah Conner–style and grab any twelve NBA legends from 1946 through 2009, transport them to the present day, then hold practices for eight weeks before the Final Finals. Again, we have to prevail or planet Earth as we know it ends. Which twelve players would you pick?
If you learned anything from this book other than “Simmons is incapable of editing himself” and “Rick Barry wore a Burt Reynolds–like wig during the 1975–76 season,” I hope and pray that it’s this: instead of picking the greatest players, you should pick twelve who complement each other in the best possible way … right? (Please nod. Thank you.) You want a basketball team. A group that understands The Secret. A pecking order of personalities/talents that no rogue player would dare challenge. A crunch-time unit that includes one vocal leader, one leader by example and one unquestioned alpha dog. Bench guys who will accept limited roles and not care about minutes. Roster flexibility with heights, styles and athleticism. At least four white guys so we can market more jerseys and posters. (Whoops, I screwed that up—I was thinking of the logic behind the ’92 Dream Team. Scratch that one.) In a perfect world, our best twelve would care only about winning and meshing as a team.
I call it the Wine Cellar Team, and here’s why: Whenever someone makes an all-time team, they casually throw out names without context. I?ll take Bird, Magic, Jordan, Kareem, LeBron … What does that even mean? Did you like pre-baseball or post-baseball Jordan? Did you like alpha dog Magic or unselfish Magic? I need more information. Think like a wine snob and regard players like vintages of wine and not the brands themselves. Ask any wine connosseur for their ten favorite Bordeaux of the last seventy-five years and they wouldn’t say, “ Mouton-Rothschild, Lafite, Haut Brion, Latour …” They would give you precise vintages. The ’59 Mouton Rothschild. The ’53 Lafite. The ’82 Haut-Brion. The ’61 Latour. If you prodded them, they would happily accept this challenge, “I’ll give you five dinner menus and you give me the ten best Bordeaux, two per dinner, that match up with the food.” That’s part of being a wine connoisseur—not just knowing the wines but knowing the vintages and how they relate to food. They would have a grand old time figuring this out.1
Doesn’t that sound like basketball? It’s all about the vintages. I loved watching Bird, but I really loved watching ’86 Bird. Why? His teammates peaked in ’86, allowing him to explore parts of his game during his prime that couldn’t be explored otherwise. You could say his career year became special because of luck and timing. With wines, the determining factors for career years also hinge on luck and timing—like 1947, an unusually hot summer in France that created wines of high alcohol and low acidity. That’s how the ’47 Cheval Blanc emerged as a famous vintage and the best its vine-yard ever produced … you know, just like ’77 Bill Walton. Not every decision is that easy. Mouton-Rothschild peaked in ’53, ’59 and ’61 … you know, like how Magic peaked in different ways in ’82, ’85 and ’87. Wine connoisseurs disagree on the best Mouton-Rothschild vintage, just like we might disagree on the best vintage of Magic. His best scoring season occurred in ’87, but I have more than enough firepower on my Wine Cellar Team. If I’m already grabbing a Jordan bottle (either ’92 or ’96) and a bottle of ’86 Bird, and I’m definitely picking a few more scorers, why would I need Magic to assume a bigger scoring load? Why not start ’85 Magic (the ultimate for unselfish point guards) or maybe even bring ’82 Magic (younger, better defensively, capable of playing four positions, talented enough to average a shade under a triple double) off the bench as my sixth man?
So really, the Wine Cellar Team is a jigsaw puzzle. I made my decisions easier with three ground rules:
Only vintage seasons that I remember witnessing live. That makes the ABA-NBA merger our cutoff date and gives us a time frame from 1977 to 2009.2
Emulate the best basketball team ever (the ’86 Celts) as closely as possible, not their talent as much as their unselfishness and we-can-do-anything flexibility.
Don’t forget that a formula of “unselfishness + character + defense + rebounding + MJ” will run the Martians out of the gym unless they have an eight-foot-three center we didn’t know about.3
From there, I worked backward and started with the following have-to-have-them guys who received check marks in the following categories: totally unselfish, awesome teammate, enjoyed making others better, incredibly high basketball IQ, complete comprehension of The Secret. There were three in all.
’86 Larry Bird
25.8 PPG, 9.3 RPG, 8.2 APG, 2.1 SPG, 52–93–41 (18 playoff games)
Give him superior teammates and he’d reinvent himself as a complementary player, drain a few threes, post smaller dudes up, rove around on defense like a free safety, make everyone else better and take over if you needed him. Mike Fratello summed up Bird’s better-with-great-teammates qualities after coaching an ’88 All-Star game in which Bird scored six points and Jordan and ’Nique combined for sixty-nine: “Michael played well, Dominique played well, but the thing which really impressed me was the way Larry Bird subjugated himself. Larry Bird showed me more today than most people could possibly have noticed. From the standpoint of a coach, you’ve got to love seeing a man do all he did—come up with a couple of key steals, get back on defense continually, and break up about five fast-break opportunities. To me, he was like an overseer of the game. He saw what we needed, and he acted accordingly.” Yes. We need an overseer. That will be Bird.
’03 Tim Duncan
Playoffs: 24.7 PPG, 15.4 RPG, 5.3 APG, 3.3 BPG, 53–68 (24 games)
Greatest power forward ever, commander of a double team at all times, the ultimate teammate, and someone capable of playing center when we go small. Fits everything we want to do. A superior version of ’86 McHale.
’85 Magic Johnson
Playoffs: 17.5 PPG, 7.1 RPG, 15.2 APG, 51–85 (19 games).
For all the reasons covered in the Mouton-Rothschild paragraph. Like Bird, he would live to make everyone else better.
So that’s my three-man foundation along with Jordan. But which Jordan? He peaked athletically and statistically in ’91, peaked from a confidence level in ’92 and peaked as a competitor and winner in ’93 … but those three Jordan vintages were a little too competitive. Even with the future of the universe at stake, that might not deter him from undermining the confidence of certain teammates (imagine him scrimmaging against Kobe or LeBron) and turning every practice into an all-out war to constantly reaffirm his alpha status. Would we rather have ’96 Jordan? You know, the guy who was humbled from his baseball experience, more appreciative of his gifts, a more understanding and supportive teammate, just as competitive and hungry, a little less explosive but more efficient, smarter about his own limitations, someone who treasured The Secret completely? Hmmmmmm. Let’s go here.
’92 Michael Jordan
Playoffs: 34.5 PPG, 6.2 RPG, 5.8 APG, 2.8 stocks, 50–86–39 (22 games)4
And here’s why: prebaseball MJ struggled only to coexist with shitty teammates. He’s not playing with Brad Sellers and Will Perdue on the Wine Cellar Team. He’ll be fine. If he didn’t cause problems with the Dream Team, he won’t cause problems with the greatest team ever assembled. We want our best scorer coming off title number two at the peak of his powers; extending that ’86 Celtics framework, imagine switching Jordan with Danny Ainge and what he would have inflicted. Yikes. And since we’re pay-per-viewing scrimmages to raise money for the cities destroyed by the evil Martians, any die-hard hoops fan will pony up to see him battling Young LeBron, Young Wade and/or Young Kobe for eight solid weeks.5
For the center spot, I can’t hold grudges with the future of the world at stake. I need the surest two points of all time. I need the sky hook. I need Kareem. Any doubts I had about him embracing The Secret were erased in a 1980 Sports Illustrated feature, when he explained a decision to play after a debilitating migraine like this: “These guys are my teammates, but they are also my friends. They needed me.” Yes! Sounds like something Russell would say. Hence …
’77 Kareem Abdul-Jabbar
Playoffs: 34.6 PPG, 17.7 RPG, 4.1 APG, 5.2 stocks, 61–73 (11 games)
That’s our starting five: ’86 Bird, ’03 Duncan, ’85 Magic, ’92 Jordan and ’77 Kareem. You cannot assemble a better five-man unit of modern guys. Our five backups should complement them in every conceivable way (while grasping The Secret, of course).
’86 Kevin McHale
Playoffs: 24.9 PPG, 8.6 RPG, 2.7 APG, 2.4 BPG, 58–79 (18 games)
The most efficient low-post scorer ever. McHale comes in, we post him up, he scores six out of ten times (not counting foul shots). On the other end, he guards players ranging from six-foot-four to seven-foot-four, plays power forward or center and adapts to any style. The Martians will have to plan for McHale. In fact, they might look at his body and think he’s a fellow alien.
’92 Scottie Pippen
Playoffs: 19.5 PPG, 8.8 RPG, 6.7 APG, 3.0 stocks, 47–76 (22 games)
The best perimeter defender ever, a world-class athlete and someone who can swing between forward and guard and even play point forward. If one of the Martians gets hot, I’m unleashing Jordan or Pippen on him. Also, we need him for our Murderous Press, that’s about fifteen paragraphs away from rocking your world.
’77 Bill Walton
Playoffs: 18.2 PPG, 15.2 RPG, 5.5 APG, 3.4 BPG, 51–69 (19 games)
No modern center had a greater effect on his teammates. We want a combination rebounder, shot blocker and passer who would be overjoyed to join forces with the greatest collection of talent ever assembled. And as we learned in ’86, the Walton Experience works splendidly in short doses.6
’05 Ron Artest
Playoffs: (DNP)
Just kidding. He’d start an intergalactic melee. We need an MJ backup, though. What about …
’01 Kobe Bryant
Playoffs: 29.4 PPG, 7.3 RPG, 6.1 APG, 47–82–32 (16 games).
Best-case scenario: Young Kobe performs a reasonable MJ impression as Jordan’s caddy. It’s conceivable because he hasn’t gone Teen Wolf yet and he’s young enough to understand his place in the pecking order. If we asked him to play 15 minutes a game, kill himself defensively, push Jordan in practice and serve as his valet during games, Young Kobe probably says yes. Older Kobe would think, “Wait a second, why should I take a backseat to Michael? I’m just as good as he is!” That’s why we need Young Kobe.
Worst-case scenario: Young Kobe gets totally caught up in the whole “I need to prove that I’m as good as MJ” thing, jacks up shots in games and keeps challenging Jordan in practice to the point that we can’t put them on different teams in scrimmages anymore.
(Actually, why am I even risking it? Couldn’t we just go here?)
’09 Dwyane Wade
Regular season: 30.2 PPG, 7.5 APG, 5.2 RPG, 2.2 SPG, 49–77–32 (79 games)
For five reasons: (a) ’09 Wade performed the best Jordan imitiation yet; (b) it can’t be forgotten how he thrived off the bench during the ’08 Olympics; (c) I don’t have to worry about chemistry; (d) he can handle the ball at point in a pinch; and (e) Lakers fans will be furious that I bumped Kobe. This is a win-win all the way around. Sorry, Kobe. Just remember, I didn’t do this … you did this.7
’09 Chris Paul
Regular season: 22.9 PPG, 11.0 APG, 5.5 RPG, 2.8 SPG, 50–87–36 (77 games)
The Evolutionary Isiah and the front of our Murderous Press, as well as the perfect Magic backup (capable of handling any waterbug point guard) and a second ballhandler/cooler for when we’re protecting a lead in the last 30 seconds.
For our last two spots, we’re going with luxuries …
’09 LeBron James
Regular season: 28.4 PPG, 7.6 RPG, 7.2 APG, 1.69 SPG, 49–78–34 (82 games)
I considered ’89 Dennis Rodman before realizing he broke my Only One Head Case (you can get away with one head case, but if you have two, they might end up hanging out) and Nobody on My Wine Cellar Team Can Appear on Celebrity Apprentice at Any Point in Their Lives rules. No thanks. The ’09 LeBron gives us more smallball options, an über-athlete who can play four positions (à la ’82 Magic) and the next to final piece of our Murderous Press that’s now making you giddy, as well as a phenomenal teammate and competitor who might even challenge Bird for minutes. I’m downgrading him as the eleventh guy only because he’s still two or three years away from becoming the player we know he’ll be.8
’01 Ray Allen
Playoffs: 25.1 PPG, 4.1 RPG, 6.0 APG, 48–92–47 (11 games)
Gets the nod over Reggie Miller as our official thooler (designated three-point shooter and end-of-the-game cooler).9 I mean, look at those percentages again! Are you kidding me?
So here’s the final Wine Cellar Team: ’77 Kareem, ’03 Duncan, ’86 Bird, ’92 Jordan, ’85 Magic (starters); ’86 McHale, ’92 Pippen, ’09 Wade, ’77 Walton, ’09 LeBron, ’09 Paul, ’01 Allen (bench). Check out the plethora of options we have with those twelve guys.
Best crunch-time lineup: Kareem, Bird, Duncan/McHale, Jordan, Magic.
With the following caveats: if McHale is on fire, maybe we play him over Duncan … if Bird/Magic is getting killed defensively, maybe we throw in Pippen/LeBron and/or Paul/Wade … and if we want to downsize, we can play Duncan/McHale at center and insert LeBron or Wade for Kareem. If we need a basket, we run something for Jordan or go inside/outside game with Bird/Kareem. We also have Duncan on the high post if we want to run a play through him. And we have Magic ready to run off every miss with Bird, Duncan, and Jordan. Put it this way: we have options, and then some.
Best defensive lineup (bigger): McHale/Duncan/Kareem (two of three), Pippen, Jordan, Wade/Paul. You’re not scoring on those guys. Period.
Best defensive lineup (smaller): McHale/Duncan, LeBron, Pippen, Jordan, Wade/Paul. Ditto.10
Best fast break lineup: Walton/Duncan, Bird, LeBron/Pippen, Jordan/Wade, Magic/Paul. Holy schnikes. Lots of options here. We can run with some combination of nearly every guy on our team.
Best smallball lineup: LeBron, Pippen, Jordan, Wade, Paul. Fascinating because you could get away with this quintet defensively if you pushed the pace and trapped all over the place (it would be like the ’07 Warriors on acid). Admit it, you’re moving to the edge of your seat when this lineup comes in. You could also insert Magic for Wade or Pippen if you wanted to relive the Magic/Nixon salad days.
Best bigball lineup: Kareem, Walton/Duncan, McHale, LeBron/Pippen, Bird. With LeBron or Pippen at point forward. Yes, you could play them together and it would work—no different from Walton, Parish, McHale, Bird and DJ flourishing in the ’86 Playoffs. In fact, this might be my favorite look yet.
Best three-point shooting lineup: LeBron, Bird, Jordan, Allen, Paul. My least favorite wrinkle since I only have two deadly bombers and I’d much rather have three. (Note to Steve Nash: You almost made the Wine Cellar Team simply as a better version of the ’96 Steve Kerr.) On the other hand, I have Larry Bird and Ray Allen. So all isn’t lost.
Best free-throw-shooting lineup: Bird, Jordan, Paul, Magic, Allen. Nobody under 85 percent and two over 90 percent. We would not blow a lead in the final 45 seconds.
Most intriguing lineup: Walton, Bird, LeBron, Magic, Jordan. Four superior passers with Jordan. I am giddy.
The murderous press: Duncan, LeBron, Pippen, Wade, Paul. I’m borrowing this idea from Rick Pitino, who told Malcolm Gladwell that if he ever coached in the NBA again, he would pick five of his bench guys to practice exclusively on a full-court press, then play them once a half for four or five minutes at a time. Their sole purpose would be to create havoc, wear opponents down, exploit opposing bench guys and shift momentum. And they would. Would you want to bring the ball up against a press with these five guys prowling around like cheetahs? It would be like throwing against a ten-man secondary, right?11
Here’s how my playing time would ultimately break down. Keep in mind, we want these guys going all out at all times.
First quarter. Jordan, Bird, Magic, Duncan and Kareem start the game. At the 6:00 mark, McHale comes in for Duncan. After the mandatory 3:00 minute timeout, it’s time for a Paul-Wade-Pippen-McHale-Walton quintet.
Second quarter. Four minutes of hell with our killer press (Duncan-LeBron-Pippen-Wade-Paul). At the 8:00 mark, Walton, Bird, Magic and Jordan return and play with LeBron at power forward for a little “holy shit, look at this passing” interlude. For the last four minutes, Kareem replaces Walton and McHale replaces LeBron.
Third quarter: Same starters. At 6:00, McHale comes in for Duncan and Walton replaces Kareem. At 3:00, Paul-Wade-LeBron-McHale-Walton.
Fourth quarter: Four more minutes of hell with our killer press (and Duncan anchoring it). At the eight-minute mark, Jordan, Kareem, Bird, Magic and McHale return. We bring back Duncan for the final 4:00 unless McHale is destroying his guy and can’t be taken out.
Minutes breakdown: Jordan (34), Bird (34), Magic (34), Kareem (27), Duncan (24), McHale (20), LeBron (15), Wade (14), Paul (14), Walton (13), Pippen (11), Allen (0).12
(We are gonna f*ck those Martians up! Don’t come into our house!) My toughest omissions: ’92 Robinson, ’01 Kobe, ’89 Rodman, ’06 Nash and ’96 Kerr (three-point shooting and free-throw shooting), ’79 Gervin (instant offense), ’84 Bernard (ditto), ’04 Garnett (in LeBron’s place), ’83 Toney (in Wade’s spot), ’89 Dumars (defense and intangibles), ’79 Moses (only for his rebounding), ’87 Barkley (in the LeBron spot, although we couldn’t press with him), ’87 Isiah (instead of Paul).13 The toughest cut? I can’t believe I’m saying this … but it’s Rodman. We could have used him on the Murderous Press. Oh, well.
For a head coach, I’m grabbing ’07 Gregg Popovich (perfect sense of humor, proven success with veteran teams like this one) over any of the Phil Jackson or Pat Riley vintages, just because we don’t need any of their cutesy motivational tricks on a team this good. Pop’s assistants: ’06 Mike D’Antoni (our offensive guru), ’09 Mike Brown (our guru for defending high screens and rotating correctly), ’88 Rick Pitino (pulled from college to run our killer press)14 and ’77 Willis Reed (big man coach and protection just in case an alien starts a bench-clearing brawl). Also, we need 1984 Red Auerbach involved—we’re making him the team president, just so we’d have a crusty old guy happily accepting the All-Universe Trophy in the raucous locker room after the game and saying something sarcastic like, “I kept hearing that the aliens were more advanced in every respect.” (Holds up the trophy.) “Here’s your advancement, I got it right here!”
Speaking of Red, how would a pre-merger team look operating under the same principles? You wouldn’t have the same athleticism—hence, no press with the bench guys—and you’d have serious outside shooting issues since nobody consistently drained anything past 20–22 feet back then. So I’d twist this unit around with a different focus. Check it out.
Starters. The ’74 Kareem (first scoring option); ’64 Russell (moves to power forward as my leader, shot blocker, and rebounder); ’72 Havlicek (my glue); ’66 West (slightly poor man’s MJ); ’64 Oscar (the maestro). These are my best five guys and the most “modern” of the pre-1977 guys. I want them playing together as much as possible.15
Bench. The pre-1977 guys weren’t nearly as flexible stylistically and lacked length because the Duncan/KG types just didn’t exist. So what do we do? I thought about run-and-gun with ’61 Elgin, ’59 Cousy, ’62 Wilt, ’76 Doc and ’73 Cowens, but they’d have no outside shooting and might get pancaked defensively. So what if we just unleashed Wilt, revolved the bench around him and re-created the ’67 Sixers or ’72 Lakers as closely as possible? We tell ’67 Wilt going in, “Look, you’re not starting. You will never start. You will also never finish a game. Here’s all we want from you. For six minutes each half, we want you to score as many points as you possibly can. You will be our number one option for those twelve minutes. We will only care about getting you the ball and playing defense. That’s it. Otherwise, you’re not coming, you’ll never see the future and you’ll never find out what sex with an alien groupie is like. Do you accept this mission or not?” I think Wilt accepts. Maybe even with a hard-on. Then we build a bench unit around him that resembles the ’67 Sixers as closely as possible: ’70 Frazier (reasonable Oscar imitation, plus someone to carouse with Wilt after games); ’70 DeBusschere (rebounding, defense and long-distance shooting); ’75 Barry (passing, long-range shooting, last-minute cooler); ’65 Sam Jones (we already know he can score off the bench). Also, I’m going to isolate Barry off the court like a mass murderer so he can’t interact with teammates in any way. We’ll have to treat him the same way Hannibal Lecter was treated: Keep him on a stretcher with a metal mask covering his face, then wheel him in when we need him for practice and games. This will definitely work.
Deep bench. The ’75 McAdoo (long-range shooting and added length if we need it); ’73 Maravich (three-point specialist, free throw shooting, garbage time fun).
Coach. By himself, ’65 Auerbach. Just seven plays and a rolled-up program. We’re going old school through and through.
Toughest omissions. The ’70 Willis (an enforcer/banger would have been nice); ’76 Doc (I don’t need more scoring); ’59 Cousy (subpar defense and outside shooting); ’58 Pettit (Grumpy Old Editor would have killed me); ’76 Calvin Murphy (scorer, cooler, strange height matchup for teams); ’70 Cunningham (slasher extraordinaire); ’73 Cowens (perfect energy guy); ’64 Satch Sanders (a Rodman-like defensive stopper); ’61 Elgin (just couldn’t find a spot for him). The toughest omissions? Doc and Elgin. We already have enough scoring. Sorry, fellas.
What if we had a seven-game series between the pre-1977 and post-1977 guys for the right to play the Martians? I can’t imagine the pre-’77’s handling Jordan in any conceivable way; he’d definitely annihilate West after Magic kept riling him up that West was the real “Mr. Clutch.” The post-’77’s could throw four lengthy big guys at Kareem and Wilt and wreak havoc on the Frazier/Jones backcourt with its press.16 If it came down to the post-’77’s protecting a lead, they could toss out a Kareem-McHale-Pippen-Jordan-Wade lineup and shackle every pre-’77 guy except ’74 Kareem, whom they’d keep doubling by leaving Russell alone from 15 feet (and daring him to shoot). The pre-’77’s couldn’t take advantage of the three-point line without playing West, Maravich, McAdoo and Barry at the same time … and the post-’77’s would combat it by unleashing Jordan-Wade-LeBron-Paul on them and attacking Maravich defensively. If they ran everything through Oscar, the post-’77’s would have Pippen, LeBron or Wade hound him everywhere. And again, who’s guarding Jordan? Or Wade? Or even LeBron? I can’t see the pre-’77’s winning a single game.
If you want to combine the two eras, I’m fine with ’64 Russell over ’77 Walton, ’66 West over ’09 Wade, and ’72 Havlicek over ’09 LeBron if we’re intent on representing the old guard. But that’s it. Do I need to make those switches? Except for Russell, probably not.
So that’s the Wine Cellar Team for now. I finished this book in mid-April 2009. When The Second Book of Basketball: A Quick Influx of Cash is released in 2016, maybe LeBron and Paul replace Magic and Bird as starters. Maybe Kevin Durant bumps Ray Allen. Maybe Dwight Howard turns into a beast and knocks Walton off. Maybe 2012 LeBron supplants 1992 MJ as the team’s alpha dog. I am prepared for anything. I am a basketball fan. I am always ready for the next surprise. You never know when true greatness is lurking around the corner. Just make sure you don’t forget the ones who already lurked.
1. I never understood the whole wine snob thing. It’s so subjective—wines hit everyone differently and there’s no reason to spend hours on end debating which wine is better. Just drink them and shut up. Nothing’s worse than being trapped in a room with someone who is creating dumb arguments, trying to prove impossible-to-prove things, and hammering you with their insufferable opinions. Unless it’s this book. Then it’s totally fine.
2. Not to get too technical, but we’re throwing each pick in the time machine right after his season ends.
3. FYI: We’re playing the Final Finals at MSG, selling tickets and everything. I don’t want to make the same mistake Rocky made when he fought Drago in Russia on Christmas Day for no money. (Which barely topped these other doozies as the dumbest moment of Rocky IV: Apollo dying in the ring for ten solid minutes without medical help and 100 people crowding the ring; Rocky climbing a 20,000-foot Russian mountain in snow boots and a winter coat; and the Soviet crowd turning on Drago and rooting for Rocky.) If the future of the world is at stake, we may as well profit from this thing. By the way, I envision the Final Finals ending like Rocky IV did, with the Wine Cellar Team and the Martians forging a mutual respect and Magic Johnson telling the fans, “What you just saw out here was 12 humans and 12 aliens practically killing themselves … but I guess it’s better than ten billion” and “If the Martians can change, and the humans can change, everyone can change!”
4. His most underrated postseason: 7 brutally physical games against the Thugball Knicks, 6 hard-fought games against an excellent Cavs team, and 6 more against a scary Blazers team … and he never faded even one iota.
5. Worth noting: I changed my opinion on ’92 MJ vs. ’96 MJ between 17 and 700 different times. I’m still not sure that I made the right pick. The ’92 MJ was athletically superior and had a 90 percent idea of The Secret; the ’96 MJ was 90 percent as good but embraced The Secret. So tough. I don’t know. F*ck.
6. I considered ’92 David Robinson here because he averaged a 23–12 with a staggering 6.8 stocks per game (4.5 blocks, 2.3 steals), the highest post-1973 total of all time. And there was no greater teammate or better center candidate for my press. But Robinson had that propensity to choke in the clutch, and if anything happened to Kareem …
7. That’s an homage to my friend Dave Dameshek, a radio host with a weekly “Jerk List” who starts the segment by telling all of that week’s jerks, “Just remember, I didn’t do this … you did this.”
8. When The Second Book of Basketball is written LeBron will almost definitely be unseating Larry Legend or Duncan from the starting lineup, barring a terrible injury or someone framing him for a crime. For now, I want an intangibles guy as my backup small forward and that’s Pippen. We’ll keep Bron in the garage with a cover on him like a brand-new Testarossa.
9. You know this book has dragged on too long when I’m coming up with subnicknames for my nicknames (thooler/cooler). Don’t worry, we’re almost done. I know you’re like one of those overheated marathon runners on the twenty-sixth mile right now.
10. Conceivably, I could have picked all five members of the ’92 or ’93 All-Defense First Team: Pippen, Rodman, MJ, Dumars and either Robinson (’92) or Hakeem (’93), then swapped LeBron for MJ and made that my Murderous Press. But that would have involved dumping Walton for Robinson/Hakeem, Wade for Dumars and Ray Allen for Rodman … too risky. You wouldn’t believe how much time I spent coming up with this team. We are talking dozens and dozens of hours. And every time I thought, “I really need a life,” I remembered, “But hey, it’s for my book!” and that made it okay.
11. Wait a second … did I just steal an idea from Rick Pitino, one of the least successful NBA coach/execs in modern basketball history? This book really needs to end soon.
12. Sorry, Ray. You’re a luxury. Nobody plays 12 guys; it’s nonsensical. If you don’t like it, we can make calls to Kerr and Nash right now. Just say the word. By the way, if LeBron beats out Wade for those backup SG minutes, I’m fine with that. May the best hypothetical man hypothetically win.
13. Poor Isiah even gets cut from the Wine Cellar Team (for a legitimate reason this time: 3-point shooting). But considering MJ hated him enough to keep him off the Dream Team, wouldn’t he have said, “Look, I’d rather see Earth blow up over being teammates with that guy?” I feel like the answer is yes.
14. I went with ’88 Pitino instead of ’96 Pitino because ’96 Pitino had too big an ego to be somebody’s assistant. This is a guy who once wrote a book called Lead to Succeed: 10 Traits of Great Leadership in Business and Life one year after he finished ruining the Celtics and the entire team quit on him.
15. If you thought Russell and Wilt should start together, they did so in ’61 and ’62 and lost by a combined 41 points. Russell mailed in All-Star games (10–12 in 28 MPG) except for after Wilt moved West in ’63, when Russell’s team won all three years (Russell: 16–19–4; Wilt: 19–18–1). When Wilt returned in ’66, the East won two of the next three, as well as in ’69 after Wilt went to L.A. (mail-ins from Russell and Wilt). So Russell was 4–0 in All-Stars vs. Wilt and 3–3 as teammates. Thought that said it all.
16. Originally, I was worried about ’74 Kareem and ’77 Kareem hypothetically playing against each other because they couldn’t be in two places at the same time. Or so I thought. Because as Season 5 of Lost proved, they could be in the same place as long as we didn’t disturb the past to make it happen. And that could only happen if it was preordained to happen. So for it to happen, that means even before conceiving of the pre-1977/post-1977 series, I would have already altered Kareem’s life back in 1974 and 1977 when Future Bill went back in my time machine and grabbed him at two different points in his life. So even though I didn’t think of the idea until last year, ’74 and ’77 Kareem already will have had the experience of traveling forward in time to hypothetically play each other. Did that make sense? (Waiting.) What? You hate my guts for making your head hurt? How dare you!