I’ve always been a Steve Nash hater. Let’s just get that out there.
I’ve always thought that he’s a wormy, saccharine Canadian;
a player whose abilities on the court are blown out of proportion by his
statistics on paper. He’s the high
school quarterback that scores the hot cheerleader, heads the class council,
gets straight A’s, and petitions for more soda machines on campus.
He is the kid who does more community service than the
amount required for graduation. I mean,
who does that!?
We get it, Steve.
You’re nice. You’re a do-gooder,
and you’ve won over the masses with your G-rated Disney pizazz. Just stop the act already.
If you were to ask me, he didn’t deserve those MVPs. He got them because he was small, white, and
did everything right. He answered
questions politely, and smiled for the camera. He visited hospitals and painted
houses. But his play didn’t justify the
accolades, the fanfare, or the adoration.
He has won nothing, accomplished nothing, proven nothing.
I would have said he played us all for fools. And you know what? I would have been dead wrong. Because even
though he’s playing against the Lakers…my
Lakers…I keep finding myself rooting
for Steven John Nash.
***
It kills me to say this, but Nash has revolutionized the
game of basketball. His effect cannot be
seen in a single game (though I guarantee you, like last night’s Game 5
thriller, he will make any game entertaining), nor can his effect on the
basketball culture be quantifiably measured.
This is true within Phoenix , Dallas , Santa
Clara , Canada
This wormy, saccharine Canadian has become an
ambassador. Our ambassador. And, though
it has taken me a while to come around on this fact, it is a privilege to have
this class council president as our diplomat to the basketball-watching
legions. His methods are highly
successful, tremendously watchable, and brilliant to behold. May the Coke machines abound.
First, let me break down what Nash brings to the court. In this, his 13th season, when his
body should be/has been breaking down for at least five years, he is enjoying
one of his finest seasons of all-time.
(No small feat for a prior back-to-back MVP winner.) He averaged 16 points and 11 assists a game
this year, 17.5 and 10 in the playoffs. He
led his team to the Western Conference Finals when no one had them out of the
first round. He re-activated Amare
Stoudamire (not to mention the whole city of Phoenix), and in the biggest game
of the year he hit big shot after big shot even as his coach was puking on the
sidelines. True story.
And I realize it is a pity that we have never seen what he
can do in the Finals.
True, he can’t beat players with his speed, provide
lock-down defense, elevate, or play for over 35 minutes a game. But he never really could in the first place,
could he? When he is on the court, he
hides his every shortcoming in a way that it only rarely becomes apparent.
I mean, let’s be honest.
Every single player in the NBA – yes, even Earl Boikins – could post up
Steve Nash if they were alone in a gym together. But it doesn’t happen. Why?
Because Steve sees the play coming, switches off, and never gives them
the opportunity.
Steve maximizes his strengths at the offensive end to make
up for his defense. If he needs to get
by his defender, he goes into a succession of stutter-steps and hesitations,
dipping his shoulder only when he has the man completely off-balance. If the defense switches, he lures the big men
out to the 15-18 foot range, and either lofts a high shot over him (that he
makes with great regularity) or burns by him for an unorthodox - yet thoroughly
practiced - layup.
For the opponent, it’s maddening. It’s like trying to share a sleeping bag with
your sister - it should be easy, but you just can’t get in the right position.
On drives, Nash gets behind the hoop - much like a hockey
player – and looks for cutters at angles the defense isn’t accustomed to. If the defenders stay at home on their
players, it makes for an easy and uncontested layup. But if they switch off, they have to turn
their back on Stoudamire or Grant Hill.
And that’s never a smart idea.
It’s brilliant basketball play, really. Like in fencing, he realizes that he is in
power when he has the ball in attack mode.
He makes the choices, dictating every move that the defense makes, and
countering appropriately.
I’m beginning to realize I’ve never seen a player like him.
Steve Nash is proof that you don’t have to be able touch the
top of the backboard in order to play in this league. He embodies the natural evolution of
basketball; the game where a keen eye and smart thinking can make up for a lack
of athletic talent.
Now, I’ll root for the Lakers until I’m purple and gold in
the face. But for basketball fans, Steve
Nash is our savior. He is the hope of
the slow, ground-ridden masses.
And that’s quite an accomplishment, isn’t it?
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