It’s Jimmy…

Every year across the country, twenty million fans attend an NBA game. The most familiar faces are in Los Angeles. The Lakers are Hollywood’s team, making their home stands A-List events that all but require a red carpet. While the world’s greatest athletes streak across the hardwood, both TV cameras and cell phones scan the crowd in order to ensure each brush with celebrity is recorded.

Quietly seated amongst these Oscar winners, sitcom stars and chart-topping musicians is a man who’s become a bit famous himself, simply by watching the game. A season ticket holder since 1961, James F. Goldstein is a staple at both Laker and Clipper games, where he can be seen chatting with players before tip-off.

In comparison to the company he keeps, Jim is a relatively small man, with shoulder length gray hair flowing from underneath his signature wide brimmed hats. Always in couture, oftentimes in black, Goldstein’s sophisticated appreciation of the NBA is similar to that of regulars at fashion shows, which he’s also known to attend. He neither hoots nor hollers during the action, preferring to politely applaud the highs and silently suffer the lows. However, this reserved exterior belies a deep passion for the sport.

Every regular season, he attends practices and press conferences and occasionally pops up in the locker room. Then for seven weeks every spring, Goldstein jaunts across the map, taking in the NBA playoffs. He keeps a schedule that would impress even the most road-weary veteran, sometimes appearing at multiple games in the same day. When the final buzzer has sounded, a new champion is crowned and he still isn’t satisfied, he heads abroad for the World Championships. Or the Olympics. Then he returns home to enjoy a few summer league games. Too much is just never enough.

Having both the means and the contacts, Jim previously considered buying a team of his own, but decided he’s quite comfortable right where he is. “I have all the benefits in terms of access to whatever I want without any of the pressure of being an owner.”

He’s been court side for five decades and developed an All Star roster of friendships ranging from Hakeem Olajuwon to David Stern. But even Goldstein himself doesn’t realize his impact on the game and its culture until another shrieking fan rushes down the aisle begging for an autograph. He considers it not only a compliment, but further validation that this has been time well spent.

“The thing that’s made an impression on me is the large number of young fans who come up during the season who want to meet me, talk to me and say they want to become a fan like myself some day. There’s some satisfaction that I made an impression on young people and added interest in seeing the game. It’s nothing I set out to do, but it pleases me when it happens.”

Young Love’s Joy

I’m sorry baby. I didn’t know. I made some harsh-and rash-judgements. It’s just that I’m jaded and when they described you to me I wasn’t impressed. A Jewish Brit with a fondness for Miles Davis and Nas covers? Certainly the makings of a dream girl (You probably know the Kosherist lawyers…) but, well, I don’t know-just ‘but’. I figured you didn’t even know who Apache was. I have a real reluctance to embrace white artists who gain notoriety by performing historically black music. What begins as an acknowledgement of imitation eventually becomes a usurping of the art form. White artists have access to an audience that may be hesitant to support a black artist of the same caliber, and through this audience the perception grows that the white artist may in fact be superior. This perception is then established as fact through revisionist history. Basically baby, I thought you were Elvis. I fucking hate Elvis. But I’m sorry. I didn’t know.

I thought you were just some overzealous neophyte who was trying to gain credibility through your influences. Etta James, Sarah Vaughn and Minnie Ripperton are good so why shouldn’t I just listen to theirrecords instead of yours? Instead, I threw on some Ghostface only to feel like an idiot. That was you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. 

I didn’t know about your ‘03 UK debut. I didn’t know Salaam Remihimself produced it. It still probably wouldn’t have mattered to me, I’d have just lumped you in with Christina Aguliera and Joss Stone. Mrs. Dirrty’s act is tired to me and Joss is pretty limited. Then I stopped talking, stopped judging, stopped jumping to conclusions, and started listening. Your sound is everything they said it was and more. A five octave range over break beats and Motown throwbacks? My ear actually orgasmed. 

I hear you like to drink-perhaps a bit too much-and used to enjoy the occasional spliff. And a bump or two. Maybe one of those pills too. A woman after so many of our own hearts. You’re a tattooed, foul mouthed, unapologetic, honest and intelligent woman. I’ve sat across diner tables burning through packs of cigarettes past dawn with other women such as yourself, but none of them ever sang to me like you. Or had a British accent and a thing for doorknocker earrings. Amy Winehouse, it’s only been twelve hours and I think I love you. Just don’t tell Scarlett.

Put Words Together…

“So much for objective journalism. Don’t bother to look for it here-not under any byline of mine; or anyone else that I can think of. With the possible exception of things like box scores, race results, and stock market tabulations, there is no such thing as Objective Journalism. The phrase itself is a pompous contradiction in terms.”—Hunter S. Thompson
“I just tackle the subject, get flak from the public? It’s nothin’, I know real niggas happen to love it. And if you don’t like it, then look in the mirror-most likely, you ‘aint live it, so you don’t get it. You ‘aint did it, so you can’t envision, the picture I’m painting ‘aint vivid, the language I’m spittin’ is so foreign to you. See what starvin’ll do to you? Growing up hard in a little apartment’ll do to you? I’m just talkin’ to you. I’m just talkin through you…”—Jay-Z

If you gave me three letters to describe the world of basketball, I’d say NBA. If I had four, I’d say SLAM. Pictured above is the last decade of the league, and the next one. Nearly all of them have roots in the magazine, many featured multiple times, including LeBron James who practically grew up between its pages. After 13 years, SLAM continues to comb the landscape while celebrating the progress and culture of the game.

There is a more conservative segment of basketball journalists who drape themselves in the flag of objective journalism and denounce SLAM as the insignificant ramblings of crazed fans armed with press passes. Others dismiss it as a mere cult of cliched personalities. It is not the hallowed institution that is Sports Illustrated or that mammoth conglomerate of a four letter word, ESPN, but by tailoring their focus to basketball SLAM can measure it’s pulse like no other publication, with comprehensive coverage of high school, college and professional hoops. Every year the game’s elite tell their stories through the pages of SLAM, and to honor it’s foundation, more than half of the NBA’s 50 Greatest Players have been featured in the Old School section since the magazine’s inception. There have also been re-emergences-if only for a brief moment-from the doldrums of obscurity by Charlie Scott, Earl Lloyd, Jackie Jackson and Cliff Hagan, among others. Who? Exactly. SLAM is required reading for a complete basketball education.

The folly of objective journalism is in the assumption that one can speak with absolute neutrality, which requires an omniscience that is simply impossible. We’re all products of upbringings that have sculpted our worldview, and those outlooks are what make us different. That is why we value a Thompson, Halberstam, or Wiley, for that unique voice which came from their sensibilities. I say that not to declare this magazine as the literary gold standard, but to assert that we can never completely understand or appreciate a subject until it’s been viewed from every angle, and that comes from a multitude of perspectives. SLAM dared to take a new one, and after 108 issues they’ve become synonymous with the game without boring me with their wives, their parents or some fucking schmuck named ‘House’. Thanks guys.

Soft as a Rock?

The clock was ticking towards the inevitable. Down by two with just seconds remaining in Game 1, the Grizzlies had all but lost. Michael Conley dribbled away in search of an opening, but with his path to the rim impeded, he judiciously flicked a pass to Shane Battier who rose and fired from three. Tracing through the air for what seemed like an eternity, the ball settled softly through the net and 24 seconds later, Memphis had upset the top seeded Spurs for the franchise’s first playoff victory in 16 years.

Meanwhile, 1400 miles away, their all-time leading scorer, defender and rebounder had begun his quest for a third straight title. Moments after the final buzzer sounded in San Antonio, Pau Gasol corralled a loose ball under the opposing basket and rushed up the Staples Center floor. Flanked by two guards on the break, he lofted a thirty foot lead pass over the defense to Shannon Brown for a layup as the first quarter expired. It was just a small sample of the multitude of skills the Lakers seven foot forward has to offer. Unfortunately, on this afternoon, it would be the only sample.

Los Angeles surrendered Game 1 to New Orleans in what may have been the worst game of Gasol’s playoff career. He was pushed, prodded and literally bloodied en route to just one basket in the first 47 minutes of the contest, finishing with a meager 8 points on 2-9 shooting. Flustered by an active defense, he missed open shots, was dazed by stray elbows, fumbled passes and seemingly lost all confidence around the basket. Late in the fourth quarter, Pau found himself isolated on the left block with only Jarrett Jack-who is almost a foot shorter-in position to prevent what should’ve been a sure two points. Gasol immediately posted, glanced over his shoulder….and passed out to the perimeter. It may have been the smart play in anticipation of a defensive shift, but the crowd still moaned with disapproval.

Yet even after the Lakers addressed the collected media, the rumbling hadn’t stopped. Their frowns of solemn contemplation and pacifying quotes of accountability left no one satisfied. As is the case with most upsets, after the shock is absorbed, blame must be assigned. So there it lied, underneath scattered references by fans and critics alike to his passivity and aversion to physical play: Pau played too soft. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been accused of such. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time we’d heard it this month, Amare Stoudemire made sure of that. Just weeks before, Kendrick Perkins shared similar sentiments. They’re not alone. A basic Google search will reveal hundreds of articles, message board chats and YouTube videos, many of which feature the same unflattering nickname: Pau Gasoft. Not exactly clever, yet catchy nonetheless.

But is it true?

Pau Gasol is a mild mannered and thoughtful man. He’s a classically trained pianist with an insatiable love for the arts, preferring nights at the opera and Indie flicks to nightclubs and Xbox. At 18, he was enrolled in medical school at the University of Barcelona and now at 29, he is one of the few players who not only reads, but enjoys Phil Jackson’s fabled book assignments. Honestly, you can probably tell all of this simply by watching him play and no, that’s not an insult, either. Strolling towards the arena’s exit after that ghastly performance, Gasol hesitantly agrees.

“The way I grew up, what I’ve been taught, my interests and my culture, probably do have an effect on my style of game. So I guess it does [reflect my personality]. To me, it’s for the positive. I wouldn’t want to be any other way. I wouldn’t want to play any other way.”

More importantly, no one else can play this way. Basketball is indeed a contact sport, however for those in the trenches, the ability to avoid contact is vital. Scouts drool over the prodigious footwork and ambidexterity that enable effective counter-moves, for there are times even the most bullish players must evade brute force rather than barrel through it. After all, there are rules to this game. A reliable jump shot is another desirable trait; how else can one ensure the defense doesn’t simply collapse on every post entry? Such players open up passing and driving lanes, ensuring better looks for both themselves and their teammates. Now should that player also possess exceptional ball handling skills, he would be virtually uncontainable. With the right offense and teammates, a pivot this talented could conduct a mesmerizing symphony of movement; one that controls the defense instead of reacting to it. That offense is Tex Winter’s ingenious Triangle and those teammates are the Los Angeles Lakers. Their maestro is Pau Gasol.

This is by no means a slight towards Kobe Bryant, their undoubted leader whose legend grows by the day, but Gasol’s versatility is what makes the offense so unpredictable. When Pau has the ball in the high post, even he doesn’t know what will happen next. Entrusted to scan the court as both the facilitator and finisher, a nimble hook, a nifty drop step or a no look pass are all possibilities. So are the reverse pivot stepback jumper, drive n’ dish, and yes, even a violently emphatic dunk. He does it all. Gasol is the one who keeps the opposition from trapping Kobe every time up court, Gasol is the one who has enabled Kobe to rest those creaky knees and Gasol is unquestionably the one responsible for what may be the team’s fourth consecutive Finals appearance.

All anyone seems to remember is the first. The Lakers immediately returned to the Finals after acquiring Gasol in 2008, where they promptly ran into a brick wall. At least it looked like it, the way their bodies were scattered about the floor. The Boston Celtics made quick work of their rivals, primarily thanks to their stifling of Gasol, who was clearly overwhelmed by a rabid Kevin Garnett. Determined to never be pushed around again, Pau spent his first summer in the weight room.

He returned the following season noticeably bigger and even more efficient, averaging career highs in both rebounds and shooting percentage. The Lakers cruised towards another Finals appearance, where this time he would be the aggressor. In the 2009 Finals, Gasol not only held his own with Dwight Howard, he neutralized him, denying position and scoring effortlessly on the other end as the Lakers won their first championship without the ‘other’ Superman.

Though hobbled by injury in 2010, Pau averaged another career high in rebounds and nearly doubled his blocks per game before the rematch with his snarling nemesis. Garnett entered the Finals with every intention of bullying Gasol yet again, but found it far more difficult. The Spaniard roundly outplayed him, particularly in the finale, in which Garnett was out rebounded by Gasol 18-3.

Bigger, stronger, just as fast, and now a back-to-back Champion. Yet Gasol is consistently reminded that labels aren’t removed as easily as they’re applied. Despite grabbing more rebounds, blocking more shots and playing 200 more minutes than any other Laker, in addition to finishing second in scoring and assists, Pau’s tenacity is still questioned. Sometimes by his own teammate.

After a February loss to the Celtics, Kobe offered up a quizzical assessment of Gasol. “When I’m out there being aggressive and doing my thing, he needs to follow suit and just be just as aggressive which is hard for him because it’s kind of against his nature.” Bryant said.”Even when he was in Memphis and he was the go-to guy, he was always very nice. Very white swan. I need him to be black swan. Be an asshole sometimes.”

First of all, Pau Gasol is in the All-Time Top 100 in both offensive rebounds and free throw attempts. He placed 5th and 12th in those respective categories this year. Such numbers aren’t given away, but earned in the paint, where all the supposed tough guys are. Such dependability should never be considered indicative of a need for aggression. Regardless, what Bryant may fail to realize is that the beauty of the white swan isn’t only in its fluid proficiency, but its consistency. The white swan’s steadfastness and malleability is what makes the black swan’s fearless freelancing so captivating. Two black swans could never co-exist. Or hasn’t he learned that lesson aleady?

Speaking of, what if Pau actually was black? Would we view him any differently? Granted, some of the frustration with Pau’s game may stem from our expectations of today’s big men in comparison to the back-to-basket behemoths of yesteryear, however much of it existed before he ever set foot on an NBA court. Plainly put, some of it is outright xenophobia, an open disdain for any player who honed his craft outside of our shores. Such knee jerk evaluations are eerily similar to the ethnocentrism African-Americans suffered under for their innovative play during the league’s formative years.

Another mild mannered Laker great, Kareem Abdul Jabbar, happens to agree.

“I think he bears the burden of the European style of basketball, which isn’t as physical as American basketball. When they learn the game, it’s like a shooting game. For Americans, when they learn the game, it’s like a war in the paint. But he’s really given us a consistent performer at power forward. When we need him to play center, he can play center. He’s been invaluable. He’s pulling down rebounds, scoring for us, playing defense. There’s nothing soft about him, he’s a very effective player.”

So it’s time for us to re-evaluate our own hardened notions of what ‘soft’ really is. Pau isn’t an immovable object like Andrew Bynum. He doesn’t sneer or casually shirk off injuries like Kobe. He doesn’t manhandle opponents or kiss his biceps like Ron Artest. What he does, is play the post as efficiently and admirably as anyone in the Association, night in and night out. What he does brought Showtime back to Los Angeles. Poor outings such as Game 1 aren’t the norm for him, just scraps of evidence for our own confirmation bias.

It’s doubtful any of this will change, but thankfully, neither will Pau.

“I’m not absolutely sure why certain things happen or are said. But most European players are labeled right away, no matter what they are or what they do as not being physical or tough. You have to fight through that. It doesn’t matter if you play twenty or two hundred games physically, if you play that one game that is not the greatest, then you’re going to be labeled. But it is what it is and you can’t let that affect you. You have to be who you are, play hard and bring to the table what you bring to the table. Many European players are here because they deserve to be here and the teams want them here. They earn a paycheck like everyone else, playing the way each individual knows how to play.”

Clearly agitated, he continues.

I work hard. I think so far, I’ve had an amazing career and I’ll continue to work hard, continue to produce and be the player that I’ve always been. But I’m not trying to be somebody that I’m not and that’s the bottom line. I think I’ve been very successful in my career and sometimes those players that open their mouths, they wish they had my career.”

We wouldn’t be leaping to any conclusions in assuming that this statement probably applies to Perkins and Stoudemire, both of whom were vanquished by Gasol in last year’s Championship run. It wouldn’t be surprising, as this year’s playoffs move forward, to hear some one else question Pau’s fortitude either. But should Gasol end this season with another impressive performance and ring on his resume, we can only hope such skeptics dare to ask themselves the obvious question:

If he’s so soft, yet dominates the way he does, what does that make you?

The Goods Life

‘Unceasing change turns the wheel of life and so reality is shown in all its many forms’

This is the mantra of Phil Jackson, the Zen Master, he of the ten rings and unflappable demeanor. It’s allowed him to gain control by relinquishing it, guiding him to and through June after June, when his players mettle is truly tested. It’s the essence of his genius.

And it belonged to one of his players first.

Seemingly since his first breath, Lamar Joseph Odom’s name has been associated-if not synonymous-with tragedy. Born and raised in Queens, Odom’s absentee father was addicted to heroin and his mother raised him for only twelve short years before succumbing to cancer. Left to the care of his 76 year old grandmother Mildred, it should be a wonder he made it out of the neighborhood, much less to the NBA. But these days an athlete emerging from such dire straits has become cliché. Unfortunately, life would require far more of him.

Mildred lived to see her grandson fulfill his dream before passing away in June of 2003 and in a sad twist of fate, his 6 ½ month old son Jayden joined her exactly three years later. Lamar was robbed by gunpoint -and fired upon- in his old neighborhood weeks after the funeral. He was in a car accident a few months after that. Then a month into the season, he was sidelined with injuries. There was unceasing change alright, but it was invariably bad. Still, he handles it all, swallowing each dose of life’s harsh realities with remarkable aplomb.

“Some of the things I’ve been through, a lot of people wouldn’t have been able to stick it out, mentally. Or they’d use it as an excuse to give up and stop fighting. So many things have happened to me but I wouldn’t do anything over, because if I did, it wouldn’t be my story. It’s what makes me a unique individual. ”

It’s a healthy perspective that’s made him not the best, but most popular Laker amongst his teammates and the media alike. However, it doesn’t align with the lofty expectations we’ve had for him since his rookie year. As easy as Lamar makes it look to maneuver through hardships, he moves even more gracefully on a basketball court; a 6’10” forward who denies centers, flusters guards, inhales rebounds, ignites fast breaks and conducts the game’s most complex offense. His skill set is nothing short of an absolute rarity. So just as life did, we demanded far more of Lamar Odom.

The promise of endless accolades never came to fruition for him and today, at the ripe age of 30, they’ve been replaced by dubious distinctions. Now in his sixth year as a Laker, Odom is probably in contention for a mantle full of ‘Best Player to Never’ awards. All-Star, Sixth Man, Most Improved, You Name It. Well, all except one of course. Yet even after sacrificing minutes-during a contract year-in contribution to a Championship, he’s still pestered with questions of his assertiveness. Seated in front his locker before a February matchup with the Celtics, Odom just shakes his head.

“I’m the only dude in the NBA who can grab 18 rebounds and people will still say ‘You weren’t aggressive enough’. I’ve been dealing with that for a long time. I get 11 assists, people are like, ‘Why didn’t you shoot more?’ If I get a triple double and I only have ten points it’s ‘You should’ve’… That’s something I’ve been going through my whole career. All I can do is be Lamar.” In the midst of a pivotal five game stretch without Kobe Bryant, Lamar just being himself was more than enough for everyone; 22 rebounds and 6 assists in Portland, 16 points and ten rebounds against San Antonio, then 25 points and 11 more rebounds in Utah. All Laker wins. But then he ‘only’ had 9 points and 18 rebounds in another victory over Golden State. Odom realizes there will be whispers, and they’ll remain just that to him.

“I never really paid attention to them. I worry about being a good father and sending my kids to college more than stigmas people might have on me as far as being a basketball player. I’ve been through so many different things and I’ve always felt that I’m more than just a basketball player anyway.”

He’s right though. Now he sells tacos. Energy bars too. In the past six months he’s become a reality television star and a tabloid staple. This is in addition to the clothing line, music label and acting gigs he already had on the side. He’s damn near a household name. But Lamar was more concerned with the opportunity for stability than a higher Q Rating when he married Khloe Kardashian last September.

“Family is important to me and her family is very strong. That was something that drew me to her. I have children from a previous relationship and she knows what it’s like to have a stepfather along with her sisters, so that’s definitely a reason I gravitated towards her. She understands family in the truest sense of the word.” He’s a championship athlete, corporate pitchman and budding entrepreneur. But above all, Lamar Odom-father and newlywed-is happy. Quiet as kept, his production is also up as he’s averaged a double double off the bench this year. So shouldn’t everyone else be happy with him?

The Lakers lost by the slimmest of margins to Boston that evening, 87-86, after some clock mismanagement and a botched last second attempt. It was clearly a night in which they could have used Kobe Bryant, he of the jutting jaw and steely eyed determination. But it should also be quite clear that they need Lamar Odom too. Just as he is.

13 points, 14 rebounds and 3 assists. Another tantalizing box score. He always leaves us wanting more, when by now we should be happy with whatever we get. The opportunity for him to be a franchise player is gone. Second in command too. More importantly, that’s not what’s needed of him anymore. So shouldn’t we stop expecting it? If only we could all move on as well as Lamar does. Learn to accept life’s ebb and flow from game to game. It’s probably the only reason he has anything left to give. Instead of expecting him to duplicate the iron will and insatiable hunger of a Superstar, we should applaud his selflessness. Instead of lamenting the fact that he’s never been an All Star, we should applaud his willingness to seamlessly incorporate his talent into a roster full of them.

The only desire lacking in Lamar is to compete with his own teammates. He understands the embodiment of a competitive spirit is a player who will do whatever it takes to win. Sometimes that may mean doing less.

“I play basketball. I’m not a scorer or a rebounder or a shooter or defender. I play a complete basketball game and that’s what I look to do every game. That’s the strength of my game, my versatility. Whatever slot they need me to fill, I fill it.”

There is only one goal every player in the NBA should have in common; to win a championship. In a league of more than 400 men, there simply aren’t enough max contracts and MVPs to go around. But anyone can win a ring. With the right attitude, of course. Maddening as he may be, the league-and the world for that matter-needs more people like Lamar Odom. The Los Angeles Lakers are a favorite to be in this year’s Finals and should they repeat, June may still be a bittersweet time for Lamar. While it’s an opportunity for him to remind us he still has talent possessed by few others, it’s also a reminder to him of those who won’t be watching. But no matter what changes may come, one thing is for certain.

He can handle it.