The No-Stats All-Star

I really enjoyed Michael Lewis’ piece on Shane Battier in the NY Times Magazine a couple of weeks ago and thought I would touch on it for my first entry here on TSBS. Nice, I already have acronymed myself.

As has been cited elsewhere, Lewis is a little fuzzy with the math. He notes that Battier is a plus 6 in plus-minus and quotes Daryl Morely as saying, “It’s the difference between 41 wins and 60 wins.” Really? Even if that is so, Lewis has just stated that certainly helps to have other players on your team with a good plus-minus. Lewis notes other players that were a plus 6 last season including Tracy McGrady. But he doesn’t tie in the fact that McGrady plays right alongside Battier. Or did until recently.

As for Battier’s “role” on winning teams, Lewis, as Talking Point Free noted, doesn’t mention Battier started just one game during the Grizzlies 50-32 season or that the main reason Houston went 34-48 the year before Battier’s arrival was because Yao Ming and McGrady only played 31 games together.

He also says some crazy things like the reason you don’t want to foul Kobe Bryant. “It isn’t that Bryant is an especially good free throw shooter.” Huh? When is shooting 87 percent from the line not “especially good”? He also lets Houston VP Sam Hinkie get away with calling a Trevor Ariza three, a “near-random event”. That might have been true last year. Coming into this season, Ariza had made just 8 career threes. He’s made 40 (for 33 percent) so far this season with several coming in clutch spots as in the recent Golden State game. He’s not Brevin Knight.

In many ways, Lewis’ article argues against itself. Stats, at least traditional ones, don’t mean much. There is a selfish tinge to them, whereas the secret stats that the Rockets use reveal real value (although it’s not enough to help them beat the Lakers on the night in question). But then Lewis hints at a much larger, and some may say, controversial insight to fallacy of applying stats to basketball. In deciphering whether the biracial Battier’s game is more black or white, he writes: “For instance, is it a coincidence that many of the things a player does in white basketball to prove his character–take a charge, scramble for a loose ball– are more pleasantly done on a polished wooden floor than they are on inner-city asphalt? Is it easier to “play for the team” when the team is part of some larger institution?”

These are wonderful questions. Clearly, Battier’s game is defined as more white than black. Toward the end of the game, Battier is praised for positioning himself for a three (and making the shot) during a frenetic sequence against the Lakers. And, blacktop legend Rafer Alston notes that Battier’s game doesn’t translate to the street. But does that make it more valuable? Not necessarily.

Battier might do a decent job guarding Kobe, forcing him into areas of the floor where he’s not as effective. And forcing Kobe to take 30 shots to make 30 points has value. Then again, in certain situations, I can’t think of anyone else the Lakers would rather see attempt 30 shots. This could certainly be said, at times, of Allen Iverson’s turn as a Sixer. Do you want thirty shots for AI or 25 and five more for Eric Snow? I thought so.

The point is that Lewis hints at but doesn’t pursue is that if you can define a player’s “whiteness” (my whiteness btw is extremely high) and give it a value (and we’re led to believe the Rockets’ admiration of Battier is due to his ability to do all these “white” things really well), isn’t there is an invisible value to the “blackness” of Kobe’s or AI’s game? I believe it was Chet Walker (it may have been Hal Greer) who talked about the importance or dunking in playground games. For inner city kids that don’t have a lot, Walker said a dunk means more than points. Dunking on someone else or breaking ankles implies ownership. Not just in ‘I got the best of you’ (“Got ‘em”), but that I own this moment (and maybe you so to speak).

This idea of one-upmanship translates itself to the NBA game in many ways. Maybe blocked shots don’t mean much if your team doesn’t grab the loose ball. But then maybe when a guy goes to the hole the next time he’s thinking twice about getting his shot roofed. The guys at The Basketball Jones think that Lebron never goes to the hole with trepidation except for when he plays against the Magic. The reason is Dwight Howard, perhaps the only physical specimen in the league to match James. Obviously, there’s a value there that is almost impossible to quantify.

But one-upmanship manifests most notably in the NBA in the ability to score.
Being able to get one’s own shot and convert is what separates players like Kobe, Lebron, Dwyane Wade and Paul Pierce from the rest of the L. Not only is it impossible to guard these stars with one player, they also have the ability to score (in late game situations) often despite the efforts of all five defenders. The point is the NBA is both a team game and an individual one and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

As a Laker fan, I don’t care about how Kobe has missed on 86.3 percent of 51 threes taken from 26.75 feet out in end of game situations since 2002-03. I can’t count how many times he’s made clutch shots that I couldn’t dream of other players even attempting. There’s something to be said for having the guts to try and win games on your own and coming through. Even if Kobe only makes 13.7 of those longs, I’ll take my chances.