The best when it counts
When healthy, Tracy McGrady might be the most talented player on the planet. Dwyane Wade's game is on the rise, too. LeBron James is perhaps the most physically gifted player to ever grace a basketball court. And Kobe Bryant is, well, Kobe.
But for my money, the most electrifying player in the NBA wears the No. 7 on his jersey for the Windy City. His name is Ben Gordon.
He's listed at 6'3'', but he looks more like 6'0''. BG is explosive, yet the majority of his game takes place below the rim. And he's quiet, which makes his big-time abilities scream out at you, like the jolt of a jester exploding out of a jack-in-the-box.
I consider Ben the best player in the league.
In the fourth quarter -- you didn't let me finish. While Chauncey is Mr. Big Shot, and Paul Pierce is the Truth, Ben is the Savior, if you're a Chicago Bull.
When the Bulls are in a tight one in the fourth quarter, he doesn't just hit one or two big 3s to put the fork in his opponents (like Chauncey does with regularity). He doesn't just get to the line virtually every time down the floor, draining every sap of energy out of the other team (quotidian for P-double). Ben does more. Every night, when the clock strikes 12 for the fourth time, he puts the Bulls on his back and scores and scores and scores in inconceivable ways time after time after time.
Tuesday night, in a barnburner with important playoff implications, Ben took the Bulls on his ever-increasingly-broad shoulders for the umpteenth time this season and flat out told the red-hot New Jersey Nets, "Uh-uh. No, no. Not tonight. This is my game."
He finished with 36 points, including 19-of-21 from the free throw line. 21 of those came in the final 12 minutes. Eight of them came in a 50-second stretch with under three minutes to play, the Nets well within reach.
For a non-Bulls fan like myself, the display had to have been breathtaking. And he does this every night, in an array of mesmerizing ways.
Rainbow fadeaways with defenders draped all over him. (Those are called "eyeball sandwiches" in hoops jargon.) Quick-as-the-speed-of-light drives -- between towering big men, up and under swailing arms -- resulting in nifty lay-ins, often for the and-one. And once in awhile, if you're lucky enough to be watching, he'll show off his ballistic hops and let out a rare scream of emotion. It's tough to keep quiet when you've just put Anderson Varejao on a poster, your unspeakables right in his face.
Yes, Ben is the best when it counts. It's just too bad he plays for such a mediocre team.
Right now, Chicago is struggling to even make the postseason. Don't be surprised, though, if Ben strings together a series of games like the one he played Tuesday and wills the Bulls into the playoffs.
In fact, if they do manage to qualify, Ben is a good enough player to win his team a series. As long as it's not against the Pistons, whose own Mr. Big Shot -- while maybe not as electrifying -- ain't too shabby in the fourth himself.
But for my money, the most electrifying player in the NBA wears the No. 7 on his jersey for the Windy City. His name is Ben Gordon.
He's listed at 6'3'', but he looks more like 6'0''. BG is explosive, yet the majority of his game takes place below the rim. And he's quiet, which makes his big-time abilities scream out at you, like the jolt of a jester exploding out of a jack-in-the-box.
I consider Ben the best player in the league.
In the fourth quarter -- you didn't let me finish. While Chauncey is Mr. Big Shot, and Paul Pierce is the Truth, Ben is the Savior, if you're a Chicago Bull.
When the Bulls are in a tight one in the fourth quarter, he doesn't just hit one or two big 3s to put the fork in his opponents (like Chauncey does with regularity). He doesn't just get to the line virtually every time down the floor, draining every sap of energy out of the other team (quotidian for P-double). Ben does more. Every night, when the clock strikes 12 for the fourth time, he puts the Bulls on his back and scores and scores and scores in inconceivable ways time after time after time.
Tuesday night, in a barnburner with important playoff implications, Ben took the Bulls on his ever-increasingly-broad shoulders for the umpteenth time this season and flat out told the red-hot New Jersey Nets, "Uh-uh. No, no. Not tonight. This is my game."
He finished with 36 points, including 19-of-21 from the free throw line. 21 of those came in the final 12 minutes. Eight of them came in a 50-second stretch with under three minutes to play, the Nets well within reach.
For a non-Bulls fan like myself, the display had to have been breathtaking. And he does this every night, in an array of mesmerizing ways.
Rainbow fadeaways with defenders draped all over him. (Those are called "eyeball sandwiches" in hoops jargon.) Quick-as-the-speed-of-light drives -- between towering big men, up and under swailing arms -- resulting in nifty lay-ins, often for the and-one. And once in awhile, if you're lucky enough to be watching, he'll show off his ballistic hops and let out a rare scream of emotion. It's tough to keep quiet when you've just put Anderson Varejao on a poster, your unspeakables right in his face.
Yes, Ben is the best when it counts. It's just too bad he plays for such a mediocre team.
Right now, Chicago is struggling to even make the postseason. Don't be surprised, though, if Ben strings together a series of games like the one he played Tuesday and wills the Bulls into the playoffs.
In fact, if they do manage to qualify, Ben is a good enough player to win his team a series. As long as it's not against the Pistons, whose own Mr. Big Shot -- while maybe not as electrifying -- ain't too shabby in the fourth himself.
posted by RGarfield @ 11:16 PM
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