by Simmons Bill
’93, but didn’t free agent pickup Danny Ainge, rookies Oliver Miller and Richard Dumas, emerging third-year player Cedric Ceballos and new coach Paul Westphal deserve a little credit?
You also can’t discount what happened in the Western Conference: following a particularly strong
’92 campaign that featured four 50-win teams and nine above-.500 teams in all, only six ’93 teams finished above .500 and the eighth playoff seed went to a 39-win Lakers team. Barkley’s regular-season impact, purely from a basketball standpoint, wasn’t nearly as significant as everyone believed. Admittedly, he injected that franchise with swagger, gave them a proven warrior and inside force, boosted home attendance, helped turn them into title favorites and pushed a very good team up one level. For lack of a better word, he owned that season. When you think of
’92–’93, you think of Barkley and the Suns first; then you think, “Wait, wasn’t that the year Chicago pulled out the Charles Smith Game and then MJ single-handedly destroyed Phoenix in the Finals?” Still, ownership of a season shouldn’t swing the voting. In ’93, it did. That’s just a fact.
Question no. 4. If you’re explaining your MVP pick to someone who has a favorite player in the race—a player that you didn’t pick—will he at least say something like, “Yeah, I don’t like it, but I can see how you arrived at that choice”? I created this question after what happened with my ’08 MVP column, when I picked Garnett and found myself deluged with
“You’re a homer, you suck!” emails from fans of other candidates. I expected the choice to be unpopular, but that unpopular? Did I make a mistake? I rehashed my thought process and realized that my logic was sound and (seemingly) unbiased: I’d abided by the same reasons for which I picked Shaq in ’05—namely, that Garnett transformed the Celtics defensively and competitively, turned the franchise around, gave it leadership and life and spawned a record 42-win turnaround—and included a few I-saw-this-happen examples to bang my logic home. Still, I was biased for one reason: I had watched nearly every minute of that Celtics season, whereas I had only seen pieces of 25–30 Hornets and Lakers games. My affection for the Celtics didn’t taint my opinion but my constant exposure to them did: I knew exactly how Garnett affected the 2007–8
Celtics because I watched every game, read every story and followed them every day for eight months. Did I know exactly what Chris Paul did for the Hornets? 17 Not really. Had I grown up a Hornets fan and diligently followed their miraculous transformation I inevitably would have ended up arguing Paul’s merits. 18 The crucial variable: any Lakers fan would disagree with Paul over Kobe, but at the very least they would have understood the logic. They wouldn’t have agreed with it, but they would have understood it. Well, they didn’t understand the wisdom of the Garnett pick. At all. And that’s a problem. Hence, the creation of question no. 4.
Lump those questions together like MVP Play-Doh and suddenly we have a trusty formula. Ideally, I want a player who can’t be replaced, then an alpha dog, then someone who owned that season to some degree, then a pick who doesn’t need to be overdefended to a prejudiced party …
and after everything’s said and done, a choice who vindicates my support by kicking ass in the playoffs. Although it sounds great on paper, it doesn’t happen every year as you’re about to see. For reference purposes, here’s the complete list of NBA alpha dogs in the shot-clock era, along with the actual MVP winners and my choices for Playoffs MVP. I put in boldface the MVP
winners who, after much research and deliberation, I signed off on as a valid choice that can’t be debated.
Alpha Dog (1955): Dolph Schayes
MVP: Bob Cousy19
Playoffs MVP: Schayes
Alpha Dog (1956–57): Bob Pettit
MVP: Pettit (’56), Cousy (’57)
Playoffs MVP: Paul Arizin (’56), Russell (’57)
Alpha Dog (1958–65): Bill Russell
MVP: Russell (’58, ’61, ’62, ’63, ’65); Pettit (’59), Chamberlain (’60), Robertson (’64)
Playoffs MVP: Pettit (’58), Russell (’59–’65).
Alpha Dog (1966–68): Wilt
MVP: Wilt (’66, ’67, ’68)
Playoffs MVP: Russell (’66), Chamberlain (’67), Russell (’68)
Alpha Dog (1969–70): West
MVP: Wes Unseld (’69), Willis Reed (’70)
Playoffs MVP: John Havlicek (’69), Walt Frazier (’70)
Alpha Dog (1971–74): Kareem
MVP: Jabbar (’71, ’72, ’74), Cowens (’73)
Playoffs MVP: Kareem (’71), West (’72), Frazier (’73), Havlicek (’74)
Alpha Dog (1975): Rick Barry
MVP: Bob McAdoo
Playoffs MVP: Barry
Alpha Dog (1976–78): Unclear20
MVP: Kareem (’76–‧ 77), Walton (’78)
Playoffs MVP: Cowens (’76), Walton (’77), Bobby Dandridge (’78)
Alpha Dog (1979–83): Moses Malone
MVP: Moses (’79, ’82—’83), Kareem (’80), Erving (’81)
Playoffs MVP: Dennis Johnson (’79), Kareem (’80), Bird (’81), Magic (’82), Moses (’83)
Alpha Dog (1984–86): Bird
MVP: Bird
Playoffs MVP: Bird (’84, ’86), Kareem (’85)
Alpha Dog (1987–88): Bird/Magic (tie)
MVP: Magic (’87), Jordan (’88)
Playoffs MVP: Magic (’87—‧ 88)
Alpha Dog (1989–90): Unclear21
MVP: Magic (’89, ’90)
Playoffs MVP: Isiah Thomas (’89, ’90)
Alpha Dog (1991–93): Jordan
MVP: Jordan (’91–’92), Barkley (’93)
Playoffs MVP: Jordan (’91—’93)
Alpha Dog (1994–95): Olajuwon
MVP: Hakeem (’94), David Robinson (’95)
Playoffs MVP: Hakeem (’94—‧ 95)
Alpha Dog (1996–98): Jordan
MVP: Jordan (’96, ’98), Karl Malone (’97)
Playoffs MVP: Jordan (’96–’98)
Alpha Dog (1999): Haywood Jablome22
MVP: Malone
Playoffs MVP: Duncan
Alpha Dog (2000–2): Shaq
MVP: O’Neal (’00), Iverson (’01), Duncan (’02)
Playoffs MVP: Shaq (’00–’02)
Alpha Dog (2003–5): Duncan
MVP: Duncan (’03), Garnett (’04), Nash (’05)
Playoffs MVP: Shaq (’02), Duncan (’03, ’05), Ben Wallace (’04) 23
Alpha Dog (2006): Kobe
MVP: Nash
Playoffs MVP: Dwyane Wade
Alpha Dog (2007–9): Unclear
MVP: Nowitzki (’07), Bryant (’08), LeBron (’09)
Playoffs MVP: Duncan (’07), Paul Pierce (’08)
That leaves a whopping seventeen MVP seasons needing to be hashed out: 1959 (Pettit), 1962
(Russell), 1963 (Russell), 1969 (Unseld), 1970 (Willis), 1973 (Cowens), 1978 (Walton), 1981
(Doc), 1990 (Magic), 1993 (Barkley), 1997 (Mailman), 2002 (Duncan), 2005 (Nash), 2006
(Nash), 2007 (Nowitzki) and 2008 (Kobe).24 We’re separating them into three categories: fishy choices that were ultimately okay; fishy choices that were proven to be stupid, and outright travesties of justice that should have resulted in arrests and convictions. Before we rip through them, I urge you to pour yourself a glass of wine, put on some John Mayer and maybe even don a smoking jacket.
(Waiting …)
(Waiting …)
All right, let’s do it.
CATEGORY 1:
FISHY BUT ULTIMATELY OKAY
Bill Russell (1962)
Already the two-time defending MVP (shades of MJ in ’93), Russell peaked statistically in ’62 like so many others, averaging a 19–24–5 for a 60-win Boston team and providing typically superhuman defense. If the media were voting, Russell would have gotten boned because of the
“You already won a few times and it’s time for some new blood” corollary (shades of MJ in ’93), and either Wilt (50–25, first-team All-N
BA) or Oscar (the league’s first triple double) would have prevailed. They were the season’s dominant stories other than pinball-like scoring and Elgin Baylor getting saddled with military duty and only playing 48 games—all on weekends, all without ever practicing with the Lakers—but somehow averaging an ungodly 38–19–5. 25
I would argue that Elgin’s 38–19–5 was more implausible than Wilt’s 50 a game or Oscar’s triple double. The guy didn’t practice! He was moonlighting as an NBA player on weekends! ‧Wilt’s 50–25 makes sense considering the feeble competition and his gratuitous ball hogging. Oscar’s triple double makes sense considering the style of play at the time. But Elgin’s 38–19–5 makes no sense. None. It’s inconceivable. A United States Army Reservist at the time, Elgin worked in the state of Washington during the week, living in an army barracks and leaving only whenever they gave him a weekend pass. Even with that pass, he had to fly coach on flights with multiple connections to meet the Lakers wherever they were playing, throw on a uniform and battle the best NBA players, then make the same complicated trip back to Washington in time to be there early Monday morning. That was his life for six months. The only modern comparison would be Kobe’s
’04 season, when he was accused of rape 26 and flew back and forth between Colorado (where the hearings were taking place) and either Los Angeles or wherever the Lakers happened to be playing, and everyone made an enormous deal about Kobe’s “grueling” season even though he was flying charters and staying at first-class hotels. Can you imagine if Kobe had been reenacting Elgin’s ’62 season? The world would have stopped. We would have given him a Nobel Prize. And yet I digress.
In the sixties, first-place votes counted for 5 points, second place for 3 points and third place for 1
point. You could only vote for three players. The ’62 MVP voting broke down like so:
Russell: 297 (51–12–6) 27; Wilt: 152 (9–30–17); Oscar: 135 (13–13–31); Elgin: 82 (3–18–13); West: 60 (6–8–6); Pettit: 31 (2–4–9); Richie Guerin: 5 (1–0–0); Cousy: 3 (0–0–3).
You’re not gonna believe this, but I have a few thoughts. First, Elgin’s season was so freaking amazing that he missed 40 percent of the season and still finished fourth (even grabbing three first-place votes). Second, Wilt’s “legendary” season impressed his peers so much that only nine players (10 percent of the league) gave him a first-place vote, proving how silly the ’62 statistics were (as well as the level of Wilt’s selfishness).28 Third, West, Pettit, Guerin and Cousy grabbed as many first-place votes as Wilt and stole another twelve second-place votes and fifteen third-place votes. West averaged a 30–8–5 and wasn’t the best guy on his own team; Pettit averaged a 31–19
for a 29–51 Hawks team; Guerin averaged a 30–7–6 for a 29–51 Knicks team; and Cousy had his worst season in 10 years (16–8–4) and only played 28.2 minutes a game. Should any of them have sniffed the top three? You could say they split the “I hate blacks and they’re ruining our league”
vote. Anyway, I’m fine with the Russell pick: he was the dominant player on the dominant team. Thirty years later, Wilt or Oscar would have won and I’d be ranting and raving about it. Let’s move on.
Bill Russell (1963)
Great two-man race between Russell (17–24–5, superhuman defense for a 60-win Boston team) and Baylor (34–14–5 for a 53-win Lakers team). Both legends were at the peak of their respective powers, which seems relevant because Russell was valued a little more highly than Baylor at the time.29 Here’s how the voting broke down: Russell: 341 (56–18–7); Elgin: 252 (19–36–18); Oscar: 191 (13–34–21); Pettit: 84 (3–14–27); West: 19 (2–1–6); Johnny Kerr: 13 (1–1–5); Wilt: 9
(0–2–3); Terry Dischinger: 5 (1–0–0); John Havlicek: 3 (0–1–0); John Barnhill: 1 (0–0–1); 30 Walt Bellamy: 1 (0–0–1). Good God! The NBA logo in ’63 should have had a Ku Klux Klan hood on it. The votes for Dischinger (26–8–3 in just 57 games for a 25-win Chicago team) were particularly appalling. Even if some votes were strategic back then—no Laker was voting for Russell, no Celtic was voting for Elgin, and maybe no Royal was voting for Elgin or Russell—it’s telling that inexplicable votes always seemed to be for white guys.
Back to Elgin and Russell. In modern times, Elgin would cruise to the MVP for the typical bullshit reasons of “He’s never won it before” and “He’s overdue and we need to recognize him.” That same faulty logic led to many of the egregious MVP crimes on this list (we’ll get to them), as well as Marty Scorsese finally winning an Oscar for a movie that ended with a rat crawling on the balcony as a big neon SYMBOLISM! SYMBOLISM! sign flashed in the background. So I can’t endorse Elgin’s candidacy here. With that said, of every “He’s overdue and we need to recognize him with an MVP” season in NBA history, ’63 Elgin ranks right up there. It’s an absolute shame that he never won the award.
(And if the Lakers had won the ’63 Finals, then I’d be pleading his case. But they didn’t.)
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (1972)
Here we have the league’s reigning alpha dog and MVP averaging a career-best 34.6 points, 16.8
rebounds and 4.6 assists per game for a 63-win team. From 1969 to 2008, that’s the single greatest statistical season by a center; Young Kareem was also the best defensive center of that decade other than Nate Thurmond. So I can’t kill this pick. But we should mention—repeat: mention— that the Lakers broke two records (69 wins, 33 straight) en route to Jerry West’s first championship. Unfortunately, nobody could decide which Laker was more responsible: West (26–4–10, led the league in assists) or Wilt (15–19–4, 65% FG, led the league in rebounds)? Check out the bizarre voting, the only time that one team placed two of the top three: Kareem: 581 (81–52–20); West: 393 (44–42–47); Wilt: 294 (36–25–39).
This raises an interesting question: Should a special “co-champs” choice be added to the ballot for every season with a memorable team that didn’t have an identifiable alpha dog? The ’58 Celtics (Cousy and Russell), ’70 Knicks (Reed and Frazier), ’72 Lakers (West and Wilt), ’73 Celtics (Hondo and Cowens), ’97 Jazz (Stockton and Malone), ’01 Lakers (Shaq and Kobe), ’05 Heat (Shaq and Wade) and ’08 Celtics (Pierce and Garnett) all qualify and solve many of the problems in this chapter. The ’72 season was the ultimate example: Kareem was the singular MVP and West and Wilt were co-MVPs. Right? (You’re shaking your head at me.) Fine, you’re right. Dumb idea.
Bill Walton (1978)
Even an unbiased observer would admit that for the eleven months stretching from April ’77
through February ’78, the Mountain Man was the greatest player alive and pushed that Portland team to surreal heights.31 Right as that team was cresting, the February 13, 1978, Sports Illustrated— one of the watershed issues of my childhood because of an insane Sidney Moncrief tomahawk dunk on the cover—ran an extended feature on the Blazers in which Rick Barry called them “maybe the most ideal team ever put together.” Everything centered around Walton (19–15–5, 3.5 blocks), the next Russell, an unselfish big man who made teammates better and even shared killer weed with them. Two weeks after the SI story/jinx, the big redhead injured his foot and didn’t return until the Playoffs, when he fractured that same foot in Game 2, killing Portland’s playoff hopes and leading to his inevitable messy departure. 32
Now …
It’s hard to imagine anyone qualifying for MVP after missing twenty-four games, much less taking the trophy home. But we’re talking about an especially loony season, as evidenced by our rebounding champ (Mr. Leonard “Truck” Robinson) and assists champ (the one, the only, Kevin Porter). Kareem sucker-punched Kent Benson on opening night, missed 20 games and struggled for the remainder of the season. Erving submitted a subpar (for him) season. 33 The strongest candidates were George Gervin (27–5–4, 54% FG) and David Thompson (27–5–5, 52% FG), both leading scorers for division winners who weren’t known for their defense. Guards weren’t supposed to win MVPs back then; only Cousy and Oscar had done it, and as much as we loved S
kywalker and Ice, they weren’t Cousy and Oscar. So Walton drew the most votes (96), Gervin finished second (80.5), Thompson third (28.5) and Kareem fourth (14); a dude from Venice named Manny, the league’s unofficial coke dealer, finished fifth (10). 34
The case for Walton: He played 58 of the first 60 games and the Blazers went 50–10 over that stretch. He missed the next 22 games and the Blazers stumbled to an 8–14 finish (hold on, huge
“but/still” combo coming up), but they still finished with a league-best 58 wins and clinched home court for the Playoffs. So yeah, Walton missed 24 games and had an abnormally profound impact on the regular season, winning 50 games during a season when only two other teams finished with 50-plus wins: Philly (55) and San Antonio (52).
The case against Walton: Borrowing the Oscars analogy, would you have accepted the choice of No Country for Old Men for Best Picture if the movie inexplicably ended with thirty-five minutes to go? (Actually, bad example—that would have been the best thing that ever happened to Old Men. I hated everything after we didn’t see Josh Brolin get gunned down. 35 You’re never talking me into it. I hated English majors in college and I hate movies that are vehemently defended by English majors now. The last twenty minutes sucked. I will argue this to the death.) Take two: Would you have accepted The Departed as Best Picture if the movie inexplicably ended with thirty-five minutes to go and you never found out what happened to DiCaprio or Damon? No.