Josh O.'s latest column from HOOPSWORLD

[CeltsSteve@xxxxxxx]

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<A HREF="mailto:jozersky@hoopsworld.com";>Josh Ozersky</A>

HOOPSWORLD.com
Jul 21, 2002, 2:53pm
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NOT that anybody noticed, but my column did not appear this past Friday. It
hurt me to miss my appointed hour; but I had good reason. I was lucky enough
to attend two Shaw League games in Boston on Thursday and Friday, and was
able to do a number of interviews. Yes, that means another interminable,
impressionistic feature coming up this week! Just what everybody has been
waiting for. But given the time and labor involved in birthing that behemoth,
I can't in good conscience hold up the column another two or three days. So
today's tardy column contains some few observations, just to get you by, on
what I saw at Shaw, along with some notes on Boston media, and thoughts on
the much-discussed trade for Vin Baker.

What I Saw at Shaw's (part one)

Joe Forte can play. That is the overwhelming impression I brought home from
the Shaw League, based on the three games I got to see. Forte has been
hounded, by fans and media, for not being Jamaal Tinsley, for being a
tweener, for being a third shooting guard taken when two were already chosen,
and -- not least -- for his shocking lapse of judgment in wearing a Laker
jersey into the locker room.

Whatever. The fact remains that Forte was far and away the best player in all
three games I saw, and struck me as a much more polished product than I had
any right to expect. His point guard skills are equal to, or greater than,
the newly signed J.R. Bremer. Until he tightens down his behind-the-back
dribble, Forte will have trouble bringing the ball up against pressure. And
he doesn't yet have the entry pass licked. But he has very good court vision,
can penetrate and dish, can run a fast break, dunk, and can pass off the
dribble with either hand. More importantly, this guy can flat-out score.
Forte, alone of all the players I saw this week, could score whenever he
wanted to. His release is high and quick; he can shoot from any angle; he has
three-point range; and his mid-range and driving game is superior to any of
the Celtics' reserve guards from last season.

The thing that is really striking about Forte, though, is the poise and
aplomb with which he plays, even in a ragged game like this. Forte is a real
talent -- a born shooter / scorer with deep-seated fundamentals, a game head,
and the assertiveness to do something with it. The idea that the team would
throw him in to a trade, casually exiling him, is very nerve-wracking to me.
I want this guy on the floor as a spot reserve; I think he can get better and
better.

Kedrick Brown, too, can get much better. Although everybody remembers his
electrifying dunks, his floor game is still pretty limited. (The dunks were
good, though: he put his arm through the rim up to his elbow on one, and took
off from what looked like 15 feet on another.) He is much bigger and stronger
than he was last year, and now has the prototypical NBA 2-guard body. And his
three-point shot, when he squares up, looks pretty damn good. But when he
puts the ball on the floor he tends to get in trouble. At one point against
Orlando, Brown faked a 20-foot jumper, then went right by his guy, to the
delight and encouragement of the bench -- "way to freeze him!" Terquin Mott
yelled -- but then missed an easy 9-footer. Brown made some miracle plays,
including an offensive rebound and putback against Washington's entire
frontcourt, but he looks awful raw for a guy the team is counting on for
major minutes. On the job training is still the best and only way to develop
young players, though, so Kedrick should be all right.

J.R. Bremer is a nice pickup; a good guy with a beautiful stroke and rugged
defensive instincts. He's a legit late first-round pick, one of those guys
like Greg Minor or Damon Jones, who brings an extra bit of hard work and
athleticism to the bench. I would say that Bremer has a sweeter shot than
those guys, and might end up as a key backup on a good team some day. Oliver
Miller knows more about how to play basketball than anybody here, and is
about 20 pounds from being able to really show it. As it is, he blocked some
shots, made a few nice outlet passes, and hit some nice jumpers. And of
course, he remains the people's champion: the whole crowd roared when he
entered the game, and his every post-up was greeted with an excited murmur of
expectation. (After the game, I asked him why everybody loved him so. "I'm a
people person," he said.) Terquin Mott is a live body, and seems like the
kind of guy that everybody loves to have as a teammate, for what that's
worth. Omar Cook didn't look any better in person than he did on TV.

Meeting the Media

Longtime readers of this column know that, while my access to the Celtic
brain trust is unfettered, I have been less successful in getting the ear of
the coaching staff. So when, upon entering the gym and seeing coach O'Brien
standing ten feet from me, it was all I could do not to bug out. Should I
shoot my long-stored bolt, and ask him once and for all why the team has such
a horribly unimaginative offense? No, that would offend him. How about
limiting it to a question about fast-break conversions, pegged on the new
point guard prospects? Better, I thought. A veiled but valid criticism, with
a legit hook to prompt an answer. Unfortunately, though, while I percolated
away, trying to make the best of my opportunity, a young woman, presumably
from the student paper, had sidled up to O'Brien and was engaging him in an
interview. Thinking that I might pilfer a few good quotes, I came up to the
two -- but was angrily rebuffed by the girl, who told me "this is a private
interview!"

It sure didn't look private, as they were standing right next to the door of
the gym; and having never been initiated into the folkways of reporters, I
didn't know there was a taboo against noodling someone else's interview.
Thinking this was merely womanly hysterics, I sidled away for a few minutes,
and then returned, hoping she wouldnbt get her feathers ruffled this time.
But this time O'Brien, in a gallant gesture, barked at me to buzz off. I was
pretty steamed, but my anger changed to surprise and then a kind of grudging
admiration when I saw that the girl was not a UMass undergrad, but Shira
Springer, the Boston Globe's Celtics beat writer for the past two years.
Springer looks young, and she's five feet tall in her shoes, but you can't
beat her for tenacity. She's the first one to the locker room door, and
doesn't give an inch in her professional capacity. (Later, when I saw her by
the locker room, I apologized for intruding. "It was a private interview,"
she said flatly. "And I don't know you." Dag! But Josh Ozersky is no stranger
to slights, especially from the distaff sex.)

There were a number of other Boston media types present, too. It's always
interesting to put a face with a name, but some faces are more interesting
than others. There wasn't a single national figure to be seen at the media
tables, but I did see David Aldridge chatting up one of the Spurs' assistant
coaches in the locker room hall, though. Now you know how it is that Aldridge
has the best information in the business: he was here, at an event even the
local media seemed to have tepid interest in, and learning what he could
while his fatcat peers slept on their wallets. Steve Bulpett, of the Boston
Herald, was there too, and working hard. Bulpett definitely doesn't look what
you would expect from a Boston sportswriter, though. With his tan, gold
chains, and open-toed bamboo espadrilles, Buckshot looked more like a Key
West bartender then a hard-bitten columnist -- but who am I to judge? I look
more like a Professor of Slavic Languages than a basketball writer, with my
beard, spectacles, and increasingly portly frame.

"Madness...madness!"

Despite all the action on-court and -off, the main topic of discussion for
Celtics fans at Shaw's, as it is everywhere else, is the reported trade of
Kenny Anderson and Vitaly Potapenko for Vin Baker. Everyone seems to agree
that this trade is far more real than Chad Ford's semi-fictive Pacers deal,
which was all the rage last week. Shira Springer (whom I eventually managed
to get onto speaking terms with) told me that the there was definitely
something to it, and in no way should it be regarded as solely a Peter May
invention. Springer seemed to like the idea, but my newfound respect for her
as a professional stopped short of agreeing. Even given how much I want Kenny
Anderson off the team, this trade is an awful idea. Vin Baker has no heart at
all -- two teams have now spent five years trying to get him motivated,
without the least bit of success. Even Derrick Coleman, who occasionally
rouses himself in the heat of competition, has more fire. So why should Baker
regain his edge now? The team seems to believe that Baker being close to his
home will reignite his game. When was the last time that happened? Usually,
it's the opposite problem, as friends and relatives descend on a returning
prodigal with hands outstretched, and hard-living former peeps beckon.

Even if Vin Baker did somehow manage to give the Celtics 15 points and 8
rebounds a game, this trade has "disaster" written all over it. While it's
true that the Celtics would have some low-post scoring at last, they would
also be losing the only truly physical defender on the team. Remember, the
Celtics won last year because of their defense, not their offense; and a big
part of their success on defense was the punishment doled out in the paint by
Vitaly Potapenko. Potapenko is young, strong, agile for his size,
fundamentally sound, has a reliable shot, and works hard without murmur. Is
Vin Baker, the softest forward this side of Keith Van Horn, really going to
take over Vitaly's role as "cop?" Moreover, Baker is the kind of player that
needs the ball a lot to function well. If he's going to function for us at
all, he has to be a vital part of the team's offense. Isn't that a lot to
expect from a guy Jerome James just made expendable?

And all this is without considering Baker's greatest flaw: his gigantic
contract, which runs for four more years, at an average of 13.5 million
dollars. $13 million dollars! Even if he wasn't a carcinogenic head case on
the downside of his career, how in the world can Celtics management justify
putting a guy like that on the books? This is the same team that is refusing
to carry 14 players next year, the team that is wrapping up Rodney Rogers as
a gift to our bitterest rivals, Philadelphia, because they don't want to pay
him. The team that keeps a roster spot open so it can get veteran talents at
minimum wages.

Oh, and if the trade wasn't bad enough, there is also the possibility that
the team will throw in Joe Forte to the deal to help make it happen. Well, at
least Paul Gaston will get another $3 million to pad the books with. There is
that consolation, anyway.

CeltsSteve

"Life Is a Bowl of Gumbo. Live Well, Laugh Often, Love Much!"