WHILE the Bickerbockers, who crucified a 20-point cushion at Indiana on Friday, are off to a bad start under GM Latrell Sprewell and coach Magic Johnson, there’s a turnaround on the turnpike.
My replica Jersey Nets have blasted out of the blocks with five wins in their first six games (fastest getaway in franchise history) and are playing such inspired ball they’re actually tempting me to consider thinking about possibly seeing them perhaps in living color before they hit the West Coast and their destiny returns to dust.
Far be it from me to over (5 o’clock) shadow the business acumen of Lou (Twin Blades) Lamoriello, but this is more than a one-man improvement. Unless that one man is named Jason Kidd. His arrival has translated into the arrival of more players into the flow.
Whereas the late, lamented Hooked On Stephonics put the “diss” in distribute, Kidd relays the rock to all interested parties and comforts teammates (“Get closer, I’m comin’ to you again next time”) when they fail to finish.
To a man, the Nets love playing alongside Kidd. His genius basketball IQ and rare unselfishness affords them additional offensive opportunities and more advantageous opportunities. Above all, it gives Byron Scott a responsible leader to rely on as opposed to emasculate, prompting him to adopt a fresher approach toward the rest of the team.
To a man (and woman, throughout the organization), the Nets loathed Stephon Marbury and his superiority complex. When mistakes were committed and losses mounted, he had to let outsiders know it wasn’t his fault. Though only a rookie sideline supervisor, Scott proved equally adept at separating himself from guilt. Imagine the team’s mood and motivation when its star and coach habitually distanced themselves from accountability and ridiculed the players in public.
In private it was a lot uglier. Especially between Marbury and Keith Van Horn. Informants reveal Marbury incessantly disparaged Van Horn in front of teammates, coaches and whoever else was sanctioned to be in the locker room immediately following games before the media entered.
“Stephon had no respect for Keith,” said a frequent witness to such nastiness. “He thought he was a [tabby] and treated him accordingly. He was convinced he couldn’t win with him. In a hundred different ways, he let him know, in his book, he was a piece of [bleep]. Keith should’ve punched him early-on. Instead, he went into a shell.”
Marbury’s emotional abuse polluted the atmosphere. Kidd’s constant encouragement has decontaminated it. It helps, of course, that Van Horn re-dedicated himself to getting into hard cover shape last summer. Clearly, he feels better about himself. At the same time, the team – healthy for a change, infinitely younger, more athletic and having filled in its pot hole in the middle with Todd MacCulloch – feels better about itself as well.
While it may be too early to panic (unless you’re the Bulls) and too early to get excited (unless you’re the Lakers), there are positive signs about the new Nets that are undeniable. From my vantage point at home, I can’t help but be impressed with the way they play together, share the ball (six players average double figures and shots range from eight to 17) and root for each other.
The good vibes and an appreciation for how a game is supposed to be won were almost enough enticement to get me to eyeball yesterday’s conscientious 87-84 conquer of the Cavaliers.
However, I hereby confess to watching an entire game last week (a win over the Sonics), something that hasn’t happened since Micheal Ray Richardson checked into hotels using his own name.
