Just before the trade deadline, there was talk of starting a rebuild. The Hawks were having a middling season, nestled in the bottom half of the Eastern Conference playoff race and playing largely uninspired basketball. Rumors had longtime franchise cornerstones Jeff Teague and Al Horford on the block. Moving either or both would have altered the immediate trajectory of the team and the season for the worse, but the thinking was understandable. It was easy to feel that this current iteration had reached its ceiling. It was also reasonable to look at the Cavs and Raptors (possibly even the Celtics) and see too-long odds going forward. Maybe it was time to take a step back and retool.
Or maybe not. Other than a negligible move that sent Shelvin Mack to Utah and brought Kirk Hinrich back to Atlanta, the Hawks ultimately chose to stand pat. They stumbled through the end of February, going 2-3 after the deadline, and looked pretty much resigned to a .500-ish end of the season. Then, quietly, something started happening on a west-coast road trip. It began with a loss.
For a team that was one of the NBA's surprise darlings just last year, scant mention has been of Atlanta this season. The focus has, quite understandably, been on the Cavs in the East and the Spurs and Warriors in the West. As you may have heard, neither of the latter two have lost at home yet this year, and it's an easy narrative to fit the Hawks' loss to Golden State on March 1st into that framework. But I believe that defeat galvanized the team. They walked into the impregnable fortress that Oracle Arena has been for the Dubs, traded punches with a juggernaut of literally historical proportions, and juuuust came out on the wrong end of a measly four-point margin in overtime, 109-105. Granted, Steph Curry was in street clothes nursing an injured ankle, but it was still an affirmation that Atlanta could contend with the best team in the league. The script has flipped for the Hawks ever since.
They've won eight of their last nine games, including four against playoff teams (Clips, Griz, Rockets and Pacers) and two more against squads that could easily make the postseason (Utah and Detroit, both sitting just out of the 8-seeds in their respective conferences.) Last night's win over Houston, their 5th in a row, gave them the third best record in the East.
Over that 5-game win streak, Al Horford and Paul Millsap have combined to average 34 points and 16 rebounds per game. Kyle Korver, who has struggled at times to regain his torrid marksmanship from last year, has shot 53.8% from deep. Jeff Teague has put up 13 points and 8 assists a night, and backup point guard Dennis Schroder has notched 10 and 4 in just under 17 minutes per game. Recent acquisition Kris Humphries has made solid contributions off the bench and given the team some interior depth. And hoo boy, let's talk about Tim Hardaway Jr. The much-maligned Draft Day maneuver that brought Hardaway to Atlanta is finally paying some dividends, and he's been absolutely blistering in his last two games: 59.05 FG%, 60.7(!!!) 3FG%, 93.75 FT%, and 20.5 PPG. Good gawd.
As a team over that five-game stretch, the Hawks have outscored opponents 108-93 on average. They're +10 in turnover margin, and playing the same hellacious defense that's had them ranked second only to the Spurs in Defensive Efficiency for most of the season. They're still atrocious on the glass, particularly on the offensive end (dead last in the league in ORR with a paltry 19.4), but otherwise they're playing superb all-around basketball and cohering at precisely the right moment. Which raises an interesting question: what of the Hawks' postseason chances?
Look, just hear me out on this for a second. Last year was lightning in a bottle. 60 wins, the top seed in the East, four All Star selections, a COY for Bud, and the team's first ever trip to the Eastern Conference Finals. Then LeBron and the Cavs decimated us in a clean sweep, and everyone remembered that all that sublime team basketball doesn't usually pay off without at least one elite-caliber player to take on the onus come playoff time. But there was so, so much pressure and scrutiny on that team. They had the weight of unfair expectations pressing down on them, and they folded. This year, no one is talking about Atlanta. The pressure is elsewhere, on the Warriors chasing 73 and the Cavs' myriad chemistry issues both on and off the court. The Hawks are in a position they're much more accustomed to: flying under the radar. Barring a massive shakeup in the standings, they'll likely face either the Hornets or Celtics in Round 1, both very winnable series with a home court advantage. If they can survive a second-round matchup with someone (Miami? Indy?) and get back to the ECF, what then?
Everyone's been saying for months now that the Raptors are the sole legitimate threat to Cleveland in the East, but the way they're playing right now, couldn't Atlanta beat either of those teams? They're deeper than Toronto, and have none of the dysfunction that's been threatening to implode the Cavs all season. They've also been through the crucible of a Conference Finals now, a year older and wiser and more battle-tested than they were. Could they ride hot shooting and lockdown defense through seven games with the Raps? Could they beat a Cavs team whose internal struggles may overwhelm or at least hamper LeBron's individual brilliance? You wanna bet Mike Budenholzer can't outcoach the bejesus out of Ty Lue in that series? We'll get a decent preview of both possible matchups before the end of the season, as the Hawks have two games apiece left against Toronto and Cleveland, one home and one away for each. If they can show up strong in those four contests, I'll be ready to believe. For now, Atlanta can continue to play carefree basketball, oblivious to the noise of the league, knowing exactly how dangerous they are and how few people are acknowledging that fact. Sometimes it's better to be sneaky good; to let the league keep their collective eyes on the titans holding the ball while you make a backdoor cut.
Showing posts with label Jeff Teague. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jeff Teague. Show all posts
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Hawks/Clippers: A Disjointed Retrospective
I just returned home from the Hawks/Clippers game at Philips Arena. (I am a diehard Hawks fan, but I refuse to call our venue "The Highlight Factory" until we can at least make the Eastern Conference Finals.) Since I'm still recovering from a truly ridiculous weekend (Thanks Kev!), I'm not going to get into my usual protracted jaunt. Instead, please allow me a few scattered thoughts on the evening:
1. Philips really is a great place to watch a basketball game. It's just the right size; there's not really a bad seat in the house. There are bathrooms located directly off of every entrance to the seating area, so you never have to wander around the concourse looking for a place to ... uh ... go. The layout of merchandise, food, and drink vendors also renders it unnecessary to travel more than 20 feet to get what you need. Really just a well-designed joint all around.
2. I had never seen Blake Griffin live and in person before tonight. If you're a (non-broke) NBA junkie who goes to a ton of games, you're probably aware of what I'm about to say already. If, like me, you're a (broke) NBA junkie who can't afford to attend games very often, or just don't quite care enough about hoops to go to the games, let me say this: Blake Griffin is MASSIVE in person. I mean, ridiculously, Incredible-Hulk-like imposing. Even in the layup line, casually messing around, he's a jaw-dropping sight. When he's barreling into the paint with a rivet-busting head of steam, you preemptively recoil at the Richter-scale chaos that's about to be unleashed.
3. I hate, hate, hate that Atlanta sports fans take all the crap we do from the rest of the world. I hate that there's a basis for it more. (I haven't checked attendance figures, but the arena tonight could not have been more than 65-70% capacity. For a game against a marquee opponent. Sheesh.) I hate this. Except when I'm getting tickets, that is. I paid $160 total for two seats tonight. Our seats were about fifteen rows up from the floor and midway between halfcourt and the stage-left basket. I bought these on Friday. Killer, killer location to watch the game. Ashamed of my city's lack of full, unconditional love and support for our team and overall not liking the NBA all that much? You bet. Enjoying paying a relative pittance for phenomenally good seats to a game because my city won't fully, unconditionally love and support our team and doesn't like the NBA all that much? Hell yes.
4. Unrelated: Chipper Jones just crushed a homer. He turned 40 today. Happy birthday Chipper!!!! I'm gonna miss ya, man!!!
5. Watching Chris Paul in person, when you can really follow him without the TV producer's choice of shot focus and camera angles getting in the way, is watching quiet genius functioning at all times. I know CP3 occasionally gets chippy and plays to prove a point, but mostly he just goes about the business of eviscerating people in a workmanlike fashion. You recall a few choice moments, some nice dimes, some great drives to the rack, a few beautiful jumpers, but you almost never get the cumulative, incapacitating "whoah" effect that comes from watching a Kobe or LeBron. Then you check the final stat line you go: HUH? He did what? When? I knew he could and probably would. I know he's the best pure point in the league, but HOW? WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?!??! Tonight, Paul put up a 34/8/5 with 2 steals and shot the lights out. In a completely unobtrusive manner, he devastated the Hawks. (Though my boys still won the game, thankfully.) Good grief it is a joy to watch that man play basketball.
6. Is their some sort of ethical taboo prohibiting athletes in completely unrelated sports from having the same nickname? Because, if there is no such bylaw in the sports world, we need to give Ivan Johnson the "Honey Badger" sobriquet. No offense to Tyrann Mathieu, but Ivan really is more deserving of this. I watched tonight as Johnson (um, Honey Badger) gave Blake Griffin all he wanted on the defensive end. His final line (6 points, 7 boards, 2 blocks) may not look like much, but trust me, he was in # 32's grill all night. He shoved, he scrapped, he took Blake off his spots, out of his rhythm, and generally didn't give a damn about getting down and dirty and accruing a few fouls as long as he was bulldogging Griffin's every move. When the playoffs start, Larry Drew needs to have the good sense to unleash him on KG for 20 minutes a game. God, I love Ivan Johnson.
7. It's amazing how old T-Mac looks up close and personal. Sad, really. I know he's loathed around The Association for his (admittedly horrible and indefensible) quitting/choking on multiple occasions, but it's unnerving and depressing to see one of the greatest pure scorers of his generation reduced to what McGrady is now.
8. Seeing it live really brought it home: We have zero, or possibly even a negative quantity, of depth in the paint. Injuries have ravaged this team to near ineffectualness against certain opponents. Ugh!!!
9. There are plenty of less-than-complimentary things I could say about Larry Drew, but credit the man for holding a fractured and injury-riddled team together these last few months. Despite being decimated by various ailments to pretty much every key player at some point or another, we're still locked into the 5th seed. Tip of the cap to you, Larry.
10. Jeff Teague briefly transmogrified himself into Dwight Howard tonight, delivering two thundering blocks that absolutely set the joint off in fits of euphoria. Also, he finished with 21 points. Despite a paltry 2 assists, I'm still calling this a wonderfully fiery performance.
11. Joe Johnson's final, ludicrous banker trey was beautiful.
12. Dear Smoove: I love you dearly, and if we ever trade you I'll be royally upset, but seriously, knock it off with the outside jumpers. That's not your shot, buddy. Mostly because you just can't hit it consistently, but also because it pulls you out of position to grab rebounds. With Al and Zaza gone, deep down in places we don't like to talk about at parties, we WANT you on that glass, we NEED you on that glass. Please stop taking those shots. Wreak havoc in the paint; it's where you belong, my friend. (That said, kudos on throwing up an 18/5/10. You are a golden god.)
13. Please let Al Horford be at least semi-functional for the playoffs.
14. Ditto for Zaza.
15. I am deeply exhausted and really need to go to sleep. Goodnight, moon. Goodnight, room. Goodnight, readers everywhere. Peace.
1. Philips really is a great place to watch a basketball game. It's just the right size; there's not really a bad seat in the house. There are bathrooms located directly off of every entrance to the seating area, so you never have to wander around the concourse looking for a place to ... uh ... go. The layout of merchandise, food, and drink vendors also renders it unnecessary to travel more than 20 feet to get what you need. Really just a well-designed joint all around.
2. I had never seen Blake Griffin live and in person before tonight. If you're a (non-broke) NBA junkie who goes to a ton of games, you're probably aware of what I'm about to say already. If, like me, you're a (broke) NBA junkie who can't afford to attend games very often, or just don't quite care enough about hoops to go to the games, let me say this: Blake Griffin is MASSIVE in person. I mean, ridiculously, Incredible-Hulk-like imposing. Even in the layup line, casually messing around, he's a jaw-dropping sight. When he's barreling into the paint with a rivet-busting head of steam, you preemptively recoil at the Richter-scale chaos that's about to be unleashed.
3. I hate, hate, hate that Atlanta sports fans take all the crap we do from the rest of the world. I hate that there's a basis for it more. (I haven't checked attendance figures, but the arena tonight could not have been more than 65-70% capacity. For a game against a marquee opponent. Sheesh.) I hate this. Except when I'm getting tickets, that is. I paid $160 total for two seats tonight. Our seats were about fifteen rows up from the floor and midway between halfcourt and the stage-left basket. I bought these on Friday. Killer, killer location to watch the game. Ashamed of my city's lack of full, unconditional love and support for our team and overall not liking the NBA all that much? You bet. Enjoying paying a relative pittance for phenomenally good seats to a game because my city won't fully, unconditionally love and support our team and doesn't like the NBA all that much? Hell yes.
4. Unrelated: Chipper Jones just crushed a homer. He turned 40 today. Happy birthday Chipper!!!! I'm gonna miss ya, man!!!
5. Watching Chris Paul in person, when you can really follow him without the TV producer's choice of shot focus and camera angles getting in the way, is watching quiet genius functioning at all times. I know CP3 occasionally gets chippy and plays to prove a point, but mostly he just goes about the business of eviscerating people in a workmanlike fashion. You recall a few choice moments, some nice dimes, some great drives to the rack, a few beautiful jumpers, but you almost never get the cumulative, incapacitating "whoah" effect that comes from watching a Kobe or LeBron. Then you check the final stat line you go: HUH? He did what? When? I knew he could and probably would. I know he's the best pure point in the league, but HOW? WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?!??! Tonight, Paul put up a 34/8/5 with 2 steals and shot the lights out. In a completely unobtrusive manner, he devastated the Hawks. (Though my boys still won the game, thankfully.) Good grief it is a joy to watch that man play basketball.
6. Is their some sort of ethical taboo prohibiting athletes in completely unrelated sports from having the same nickname? Because, if there is no such bylaw in the sports world, we need to give Ivan Johnson the "Honey Badger" sobriquet. No offense to Tyrann Mathieu, but Ivan really is more deserving of this. I watched tonight as Johnson (um, Honey Badger) gave Blake Griffin all he wanted on the defensive end. His final line (6 points, 7 boards, 2 blocks) may not look like much, but trust me, he was in # 32's grill all night. He shoved, he scrapped, he took Blake off his spots, out of his rhythm, and generally didn't give a damn about getting down and dirty and accruing a few fouls as long as he was bulldogging Griffin's every move. When the playoffs start, Larry Drew needs to have the good sense to unleash him on KG for 20 minutes a game. God, I love Ivan Johnson.
7. It's amazing how old T-Mac looks up close and personal. Sad, really. I know he's loathed around The Association for his (admittedly horrible and indefensible) quitting/choking on multiple occasions, but it's unnerving and depressing to see one of the greatest pure scorers of his generation reduced to what McGrady is now.
8. Seeing it live really brought it home: We have zero, or possibly even a negative quantity, of depth in the paint. Injuries have ravaged this team to near ineffectualness against certain opponents. Ugh!!!
9. There are plenty of less-than-complimentary things I could say about Larry Drew, but credit the man for holding a fractured and injury-riddled team together these last few months. Despite being decimated by various ailments to pretty much every key player at some point or another, we're still locked into the 5th seed. Tip of the cap to you, Larry.
10. Jeff Teague briefly transmogrified himself into Dwight Howard tonight, delivering two thundering blocks that absolutely set the joint off in fits of euphoria. Also, he finished with 21 points. Despite a paltry 2 assists, I'm still calling this a wonderfully fiery performance.
11. Joe Johnson's final, ludicrous banker trey was beautiful.
12. Dear Smoove: I love you dearly, and if we ever trade you I'll be royally upset, but seriously, knock it off with the outside jumpers. That's not your shot, buddy. Mostly because you just can't hit it consistently, but also because it pulls you out of position to grab rebounds. With Al and Zaza gone, deep down in places we don't like to talk about at parties, we WANT you on that glass, we NEED you on that glass. Please stop taking those shots. Wreak havoc in the paint; it's where you belong, my friend. (That said, kudos on throwing up an 18/5/10. You are a golden god.)
13. Please let Al Horford be at least semi-functional for the playoffs.
14. Ditto for Zaza.
15. I am deeply exhausted and really need to go to sleep. Goodnight, moon. Goodnight, room. Goodnight, readers everywhere. Peace.
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