It's Christmas Eve. We are in the midwest and it is sonofabitch cold out. I'm wearing pajamas under my pants. We've seen Santa and we are "frayd (of) Santa." There is goodwill on earth as well as in this house. I made bread pudding for the 2nd time in two weeks. Jean's heard "Little Drummer Boy" for the three hundredth time in three weeks. Her mind may or may not be on tomorrow morning. I got a present for my wife that she is 100% guaranteed going to love. It has to do with cats. I still have to wrap presents. Right now, however, my mind is on another, more pressing matter. Defense.
Defense. Playing D. D-Up. D-UP! Okay let's play some D now. Okay we need some D! Who you got? I got gray. No, I got gray, you take white. Nice D. Okay, let's stop 'em. Okay, pick left, pick left! Pick 'em up!
Yes, good idea, let's stop 'em. Remember, though: stoppin' 'em means more than just getting a hand in your guy's face. And it's way more than chatter. Stoppin' 'em means the ball goes nowhere near the basket. Stoppin' 'em means the ball belongs to us; they are in possession of our ball and we must repossess it. Stoppin' 'em means there is no my guy. Every guy is my guy. It's about somehow, some way, forcing a turnover.
Now, forcing a turnover is about more than getting a steal. Myriad ways to get the ball back. Make a guy hurry a pass, run a guy into another defender, pressure a guy into a bad shot, take a charge, and on and on.
That said, my defensive cocktail still consists of two ingredients: equal parts 1) chase my guy around and 2) don't let him get a good shot. Oh, I guess there's a scosh of denying the pass, sure. And a dram of stepping at a driving opponent who's not "my guy". But mostly just watching my man and staying close to him. That's it. No thinking about his teammates' tendencies. No reflection. No gutty play. The last time I ever took a charge was also the only time: the "take a charge" drill in 1993. I'll watch a teammate get burned on repeated possessions without considering what I might do about it, without evaluating who is more likely to make an open shot (my man or my teammate's man?), without remembering that the game can be controlled just as readily from the defensive end.
The first play of the following clip is an example of taking control from the defensive end:
It's the greatest player of all time, and this is a legendary play. But that doesn't mean that this kind of thing can't and doesn't happen all the time. This the stuff of great defenders everywhere, from #23 in his prime all the way down to middle-aged weekend warriors. No leaping required, and no shooting touch necessary. The execution of this requires nothing more than one hand, two feet, and a mentality. The ball belongs to us.
Every game of fives has at least one guy that plays this way. One guy who keeps his eyes open and makes things happen on defense. I'd like to be one of those guys. In fact, add that to my goals. Let's see here...how does "two steals a game" sound? Hang on, I just explored this, defense is far more than getting steals. What about "force two turnovers a game"? Sounds good.
In his first year in the NBA, Gary Grant (University of Michigan point guard, 1984-1988) averaged two steals a game, and the following year he got two-and-a-half steals each game. I never did watch him as a pro, but when "The General" wore maize and blue, he was one of my heroes. The play I remember best was his steal-into-fastbreak-slam in an 83-52 route of Indiana for the Big Ten championship. It was one of about 10 electrifying plays made that game. Later that spring, during morning recess one day, I stole a pass from Amy S. to Tony P. at about "midcourt". For that moment I was Gary Grant's third-grade avatar hustling down the blacktop in cordoroys, and when the red rubber wall-ball went into the 8-foot rim, I could practically hear Chrysler Arena roar! For the next 23 years that stands as my great defensive play. I did it again back in '07 one Saturday morning, but the other team didn't chase me with the same desperation as I figured Amy and Tony were back in '86.
Growing up, we had lots of backyard games of family basketball. Sometimes it was just two of us, sometimes ten of us, but regardless of the denomination, these games were showcases of offense. Reverse layups, floaters, prisoner-of-gravity set shots, fadeaways, ungainly 25-foot hooks, Vinnie Johson line-drives. We were like the Alex English-era Nuggets, or a video game. Everybody had a specialty, their ace in the hole. In addition to competition, I logged a lot of time out there practicing with my oldest brother. I'm talking about 15-years-older-than-me oldest. Ungodly hours working on up-and-unders, left-handed hooks, and drop-steps with him. From the second oldest I learned mainly through observation: jump, keep arm straight, keep arc to a minimum. From my three older sisters I learned rebound, free throws, and head fakes, respectively. Head fakes continue to be the youngest one's strength.
In our family, if you had the ball, nobody came firing in for it like a torpedo in the manner of say, my brother-in-law Billy. That may be a function of footspeed ("slow-footed" can and has been be applied to 4 of the 6 of us, including me) as well as a civility among siblings, an obvious no-brainer that we're not going to make each other angry. The point is, we rarely had to call fouls on ourselves. I'm picking up more contact in any single game on Sunday than I did in a whole decade of family contests. Understand: it's not that a defensive demon can't emerge from this particular suburban crucible, but it does require some adjustment when playing in the world beyond the backyard. And this was an adjustment I never made.
So in the final week of 2009, at the age of 32, let such adjustment begin. Abandon the "well, my guy didn't score" mentality. Be hungry, get the rock back, be offended that they've even got it. This can be done. Open your eyes. Make the opposite resolution made by Renton at the end of Trainspotting: don't settle for the defensive equivalent of "electric tin opener, DIY, leisure wear, starter home, indexed pension, cleaning the gutters, getting by" . Instead, hustle your tail off. Observe no boundaries. Take risks. Trap people. Push their limits by pushing your own. Make it difficult for them. Choose chaos!
