Backdoor Cut

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. 

Notes From Carmichael 1.7 And 1.8

Guh.  On January 7th, we watched the Heels play a whirlwind game against Syracuse, capping a six-game win streak with a phenomenal second half performance.  In retrospect, that moment resembled nothing so much as Wile E. Coyote running off a cliff into open space and continuing to sprint on thin air.  He can make it, the silly creature, if he just keeps pumping those scrawny cartoon legs and remains blissfully ignorant to the reality of the situation.

Everything that's happened to Carolina since has been the moment where he looks down.  A forlorn glance at the camera, a poink poink eye blink, and he vanishes from the frame.  Cut to an overhead shot of him, all four limbs splayed out, sound-tracked by a cheesy "bombs away" slide whistle as he recedes at terminal velocity toward the canyon floor.  There is a puff of smoke on impact.  Then he's clawing his way out of a crater that is a perfect silhouette of his person, walking all scrunched up and mangled while accordion music plays.  His brow is comically furrowed as he slinks off screen.  The shot fades out.

That Syracuse game, almost a month ago, is the most recent victory the Heels have notched this season.  They've now lost seven straight, all except one (Georgia Tech) by double digits.  Sylvia Hatchell earned a two-game suspension, and Xylina McDaniel is out for the season with yet another soul-crushing injury in a career that's already seen far too many.  I've seen two of those bleak outings in person. 

1.7: Miami, January 17th.  Aggie's parents were in town, so we traded our usual season tickets for a four-pack one section over and went to the game with them.  I've been ranting all year about our short bench being the eventual death of us, and losing Xylina really was the nail in the coffin.  The first time Sylvia subbed in Erika Johnson, I looked at Ags' father and said "well, you've just seen the entire bench rotation."  (This is not entirely the coaches' fault.  Four of the kiddos on that bench are either injured or sitting out a season because of transfers.  I just think they should be giving the ones that can play more burn, partly to get them some in-game run, but mostly to give the starters a break.  The cumulative effect of that many minutes can linger, and I worry about what happens down the road.)  Anyway, the Miami was not a good showing.  Steph had 9 boards and a team-high 19 points, but she did so on an inefficient 8-23 from the floor.  Both 'Dea and Hill tossed up double-doubles, but for naught.  Corlina hung close in the first half and clawed back to several ties, but never led again after a 14-13 edge late in the opening quarter.  Miami didn't blow us off the floor, they just outplayed us consistently all game long.  When the buzzer sounded, it felt like a much worse loss than the 76-61 final would indicate.

1.8: Louisville, February 4.  Tonight's game was rough viewing.  We started by spotting the Cardinals two points before opening tip on a pregame administrative technical foul which, whatever. The refs were garbage all night and I continue to believe that ACC officials are the most incompetent humans walking the earth.  Once again, the ladies came out strong and played an excellent first half.  Then, as in every game since 'Cuse, the second half went dismal as our legs went out from under us.  The 10-point lead the Heels had with just under eight minutes left in the third quarter evaporated in a wash of bricks and turnovers and overall haphazard play.  They never recovered because recovery can't happen without rest, and their is none to give with our current rotational dearth.  Carolina gamely plugged away, but all of 'Dea's heart and truly astounding athleticism, all of Des and Steph's dynamism, couldn't do it at half-speed.  Their legs are gone, and they won't be back this season.  And Jamie, poor Jamie Cherry.  Pumpkin looks exhausted.  Leading the team, playing damn near nonstop every game because there simply is no one else.  She has the weight of the world on her right now, and it's taking a toll.

The starters (plus Erika) can hang with anyone in the country.  I really believe that.  South Carolina, UConn, anyone.  They're that good.  Jamie is turning into a superb floor general.  'Dea is a goddess of the hybrid wing/post.  Des is a freaking offensive wizard.  Steph can do everything, including ridiculous chase-down blocks like the one she had tonight.  Hill throws up double-doubles with ease.  Erika is the perfect sixth player off the bench.  But right now every contest is a crash site somewhere in the third quarter because they have literally zero help.  That's unsustainable no matter how great the talent, how exacting and refined the fitness and conditioning regimen.  Dead legs can't win games, and this is a team full of them right now.

And you know what?  They don't care.  They will fight and scrap and be brilliant even unto the point of exhaustion.  Given the totality of the variables stacked against them, this was maybe always going to be a lost season, but they damn sure aren't going to quit.  And we will love them for it and be there for the whole glorious experience.   

Go Heels.  

Notes From Carmichael 1.4

Photo by Agatha Donkar @brandnewkindof

This game was like looking at the aftermath of a horrific train wreck and realizing that whatever the box cars were carrying is seeping into the water table and will probably do all sorts of terrible things to the local flora and fauna.  Glancing at the box score, you might think it was a physical, defense-heavy affair.  You might think both teams were magnificently active on the boards, that they spent the afternoon grinding and boxing out and rotating crisply and contesting shots well.  You might think those things.  But oh, you would be mistaken.  Because this thing was composed of 1 part competent basketball and 87 parts garbage from all parties involved. 

Garbage defense.  Garbage transition game.  Garbage officiating.  And absolutely G A R B A G E shooting.  All those rebounds were simply a byproduct of the coterie of clangs and airballs that plagued Carolina (and Appalachian State, too) all game long.  I mean, the Heels' shot chart is just oceans of nothingness perforated by tiny pinpricks of Destinee Walker treys and one small bright cluster in the paint.  If they hadn't been able to finish at the rim and hadn't gone to the stripe a whopping 32 times, they would have put up maybe 40 points on the day.  Maybe. 

There were flashes of hope amid the disaster.  Hillary Summers showed off some nifty offense we hadn't seen before, and Stephanie Watts looked excellent handling the ball when Sylvia put a bigger lineup on the floor.  Both came up huge defensively with a combined eighteen boards and seven blocks.  Xylina McDaniel added three rejections of her own to go along with 5 points, 4 dimes, and 2 steals, further proof that she's getting her game back.  Jamie Cherry poured in twenty points, though she still looks a little off since the broken nose.  Des put up a 17-4-3 line with 4 steals to boot.  It all looks very nice on paper.

In real time, it was a disjointed effort full of baffling mistakes and shots that refused to fall.  The whole thing was ugly and sluggish and physical in all the wrong ways.  A 23-14 turnover-to-assist ratio is all you need to know about how things played out.  It was not good or joyful or pleasant to watch in any way.  I'm glad it's over and we can move on.

Carolina won, by the way.  Go Heels.  

Notes On A Half Decade Of Found Objects and Strange Treasure.

I didn't realize it until I got home late last night, but Hardwood Paroxysm turned 5 years old yesterday.  Basketball, and particularly its NBA iteration, produces the highest across-the-board quality writing of any sport (this is technically a subjective opinion but also true), and f I were to list all the excellent basketball blogs available for your perusal on the internet, we'd be here a very, very long time.  That said, if you asked just about any hoops head to make such a list, I'd bet you all the money Antoine Walker no longer has that HP would be among the first sites mentioned.  So why am I about to dedicate a large swath of celebratory text to this anniversary, you ask?  What exactly is Hardwood Paroxysm?

In a literal sense, it's a basketball blog that was created five years and a day ago by Matt Moore and which has been home to a large number of extremely talented writers over that period, but HP's ethos has never been overly concerned with "literal."  Here you find a rare and unique confluence of detailed analysis and abstract thought.  There is wry humor if you want it, and heavy questions about life, and poetry, and nonsensical yet utterly engaging ramblings.  Here, statistics can have a quiet drink with alchemy, and the conversation will inevitably find its way to reasons why Kyle Lowry is criminally underrated.  Constructs are erected and torn down.  These people are not afraid of oblique angles.  They embrace them, in fact. 

Basketball, of course, is the nominal reason HP exists, but that seems reductive.  In the artisan hands of the writers, this game that we love so dearly becomes a prism, a means of refracting and reflecting our world and ourselves in new and interesting ways.  When I click on my bookmark to get here, I get excited in a way that I really don't about any other space on the internet.  OK, whaddaya have for me today?  I might learn about which Grizzlies lineups grab the most and least defensive rebounds, or how an undrafted backup point guard had a killer game at Summer League.  I might read about how watching a team got someone through a tough breakup.  I might stumble onto a rumination on Jarrett Jack's Twitter attacks of Ray Allen and Dwight Howard and how they remind someone of Andy Warhol's early work.  (This post hasn't actually been written, but it probably could be, and that's the beauty of the whole thing.) 

HP works in part because the people involved are scientists in that they want to figure out how and why things in basketball and life function the way they do; there is a true spirit of inquiry.  But far more importantly, it works because they aren't just colleagues, they're friends, with each other and with us, after a fashion.  They teach us, everyday, more about hoops, but in intensely personal ways.  We trade quips and observations with them on Daily Dime Live.  We come to know them through their work because it's never just about the game.  It's about us, and them, and shared adventures.  It's about joy and love and how we communicate those things to each other. 

HP has been a perpetual source of wonder and happiness for me since its inception.  It has been a sanctuary and a beacon, and just downright ineffably special.  And so I want to thank Matt Moore for this creation he birthed and the inspiration and beauty it's given us.  I want to thank everyone who has written on the site for their wit, opinions, and heart.  And I want to wish Jared and Amin the best of luck in continuing the work.  (Spoiler alert: they're going to do a phenomenal job.) 

Happy 5th birthday, Hardwood Paroxysm.   Many happy returns.