IT’S pathetically entertaining to read speculation regard ing which teams take Step hon Marbury and what toxic waste may possibly be dumped in New York.
Topping that twisted recreation for me is reading revelations in newspapers – The Oregonian, for example – that Portland GM Kevin Prichard isn’t all that interested in Marbury and prefers to stick with the squad he’s assembled.
Who would’ve thought?
I’ve got news for NBA investigating reporters who might want to turn their attention to unearthing something more productive:
Other than the Knicks, there was no market whatsoever for Marbury when he played in Phoenix. In fact, the financially strapped Suns were so desperate to slash his long-term obligation from their salary cap to make the team more attractive to sell, Jerry and Bryan Colangelo offered to include Amare Stoudemire during his infancy stage.
By the time Isiah Thomas assumed control of Knicks personnel decisions, Stoudemire was out of bounds. In Thomas’ zealousness to generate a speedy splash in his new position that fans and the media (I know I was down) would embrace, Thomas accepted Penny Hardaway as an additional price for acquiring Marbury.
We all know the result: Since Jan. 5, 2004, the Knicks have made the playoffs once (zero wins), Jerry Colangelo sold the fiscally slimed-down Suns for a sizzling $401 million, and incoming owner Robert Saver used his inherited salary-cap flexibility to transform the team into a championship contender through seemingly inflated investments in free agents Steve Nash and Raja Bell.
Think Mark Cuban wishes he’d given Nash that extra guaranteed year?
Clearly, the Mavericks remained an elite team after the two-time MVP left.
Clearly, Devin Harris (Tony Parker applied for a restraining order against him after Thursday’s 1-for-11 field-goal lockdown) and Jason Terry (serious Sixth Man competition for Manu Ginobili) don’t do what Nash does best (find cutters open before they know they’re open), just as Nash doesn’t defend like Harris.
At the same time, clearly, the Warriors’ two-man zone up top and shifting man-to-man on the back line wouldn’t have confused Nash for long; by the third quarter of Game 1 he would’ve begun to exploit Golden State’s defensive chinks and utilize Dirk Nowitzki’s offensive greatness to near capacity.
That brings this rambling man back to Marbury; reality be realized – and this sadly might sum up everything you don’t want to know about your Knicks – he’s still the most multitalented guard when motivated and on site that Thomas has going for him.
Nevertheless, finding a taker for his tantrums and two-year debt ($19,012,500 and $20,840,625; not quite the incorrect $42 million figure continually printed) is out of the question.
That is, unless the Knicks are eligible receivers to catch their own outcast.
“I know what sexual harassment is,” e-mails Bixby, “but what do they call it when you harass your point guard? Oh yeah: Coaching!”
E-mails Brian McGunigle, “Call me cynical, but I think Isiah’s master plan is to end up eating Stephon’s contract and then trading someone useful for Sebastian Telfair.”
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Dwight Howard went for 35 points, 15 rebounds, four blocks, and downed 13 of 16 free throws, massaging the macramé twice from the line with 5.8 seconds left in OT to win it in Cleveland.
But a little move in the fourth quarter by the Magic’s centerfold was to die for:
Setting up on the right side of the lane about eight feet out against Zydrunas Ilgauskas, right-handed Howard caught a quick entry pass from the right and, no hesitation, spun right, dribbled twice across the lane with his left and nailed a jump hook using his left.
It happened so fast the Cavs just stood there for a couple beats in stunned admiration.
“If Kobe (Bryant) thinks the Lakers’ talent is lacking, he should check out what Dwyane Wade gets to go to war with,” e-mails Gregg Siegel. “Outside of Udonis Haslem, the remainder of Miami is comprised of the old (Penny, Shaquille O’Neal, Alonzo Mounring) and the restless (Ricky Davis, Jason Williams, Mark Blount, Dorell Wright). If I’m Wade, I’m demanding Pat Riley trade me to LA so I can play with Andrew Bynum and Jordan Farmar.”
I suspected Shaq might be nearing the end (I am heartily sorry, Jerry Buss, for having offended thee) when I caught his act against the Spurs last week. On one telling play, he turned baseline from his customary left block position and Bruce Bowen was sliding over a hair late for the double team. The old (er, young) Shaq checks Bowen into the third row and rips the rim off. Today’s version turns meekly back and throws it out to the perimeter.
By the way, I must confess to a newborn appreciation of Riley for his contemptuous indictment of the Heat following its home loss to the winless Sonics. Only a master motivator can get away unscathed from jumping into the foxhole and fragging his troops.