WFNY’s 12 Days of Christmas, 2014 Edition: Day Ten
December 19, 2014Joe Thomas responds to environmental violations
December 19, 2014If you thought that 2013 was one crazy year in the world of Cleveland Sports, 2014 once again proved that there is rarely a dull moment. There were good times and bad, hirings and firings, wins and losses, homecomings and award winners. As the year comes to a close, like we have done the last six years, WFNY will take a look at what we view to be the ten biggest sports stories to grace our local sports scene over the last 12 months. Each day through the rest of the year, we will be counting down from ten to one. Do enjoy.
One of the great things about sports is that you can watch them any way you want. You can follow the ball or you can focus on one player. You can get deep into X’s and O’s or make baseless assumptions from snippets of body language. You don’t even have to watch the players to enjoy a game. You can look at the refs, the coaches, or the fans, and you can change your view multiple times during the course of a single game. The possibilities are endless.
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Sometimes I like to change up the angle when I watch the Cavs. Sometimes I worry about substitution patterns and personnel groupings, trying to figure out the team’s ideal calibration. I often realize it’s foolish to do so, as the people making such decisions almost certainly know more than me about the subject. I might get one right every now and then, but so what? Then I get to brag that I’m right, and everyone gets to rightly tell me to shut up.
In lieu of being told to shut up, sometimes I just like to watch the action passively, quietly. Sometimes I like to absorb a game like the TV show that it is, gently tracking the plotlines with a lazy finger: Who’s winning that matchup? What plays are leading to open threes? Who’s got his mind on the cheerleaders instead of the huddle?
Often, I just watch to admire. Some NBA players are simply brilliant, and sometimes it’s best to simply drink it in. Individual games are rarely as meaningful as we like to think they are, and thus it’s not worth getting all up in arms about them. Sometimes the only thing to do is shut up and enjoy the show.
Kyrie Irving is a show unto himself, as engrossing a player as there is in today’s NBA. He is naturally gifted and athletic, yes, but his greatest gifts were purchased through years of practice. Kyrie is not Russell Westbrook. He is not (healthy) Derrick Rose. He isn’t John Wall or even Jrue Holiday. His game is not built on a foundation of tomahawk dunks or freakishly long arms. It’s just built on basketball skills.
His dribbling is a sight to behold. Amid some 400 professional basketballers, his command of the pill is beyond reproach. You don’t just become a great ballhandler. Like any basketball skill—any life skill, really—you improve dribbling through practice, practice, practice. Kyrie has put in as much work as anyone, and that’s why he’s so damn good. That’s why he’s so fun to watch.
His finishing is just as spectacular. I can’t remember the last time he dunked that wasn’t on a Nerf hoop, but he has made me believe that layups can be just as exciting. His layups are as artistic as LeBron’s dunks as industrial. If LeBron’s dunk music is Lil Jon’s “Turn Down for What,” Kyrie’s layup music is Bill Withers’ “Do It Good,” smooth and measured as a cup of powdered sugar.
His shooting form is simple, efficient, replicable. Much was made of his poor catch-and-shoot numbers on threes last year, but he is shooting 42 percent on such shots this year, and a solid 46 percent on all field goals. Even when he’s spinning and fading and otherwise violating John Wooden’s ideals of the game, his fundamentals would make the Wizard of Westwood proud.
He’s a charming, likable kid, too. His Uncle Drew spots are as inspired as any bit of advertising out there. He can handle himself in an interview. He can press the flesh and smile for the camera at any press obligation.
The day that really sold me on him was October 23 of this year, the day of the Cavs’ Wine and Gold United meeting. Kyrie was among those on the panel at the Cleveland Convention Center, smiling and nodding and laughing at billionaires’ bad jokes. When the Q&A began, a gentleman asked Kyrie what advice he would give to two young girls, the gent’s daughters, who want to be great basketball players. I’m gonna plagiarize myself:
“[The] girls were invited onstage, and Kyrie swiveled in his chair to directly face them. He looked them straight in the eyes as he dispensed sound-if-recycled advice about practicing hard and pursuing what you love. The girls blushed and looked at the floor as they nodded. It was adorable. I hope he writes a children’s book one day.”
He’s just a good kid.
I’ve buried the lede here. As soon as was legally allowed, the Cavs locked up Kyrie’s services until the year of Barbara Walters, 20201, in the form of a five-year contract extension.2 Barring the unforeseen and the unfortunate, we get to watch this guy until the end of the decade. In a league and an industry prone to migration, we get to watch the young fella grow up before our eyes. We get to enjoy watching him scores of games every year.
Though we are a sure bet to, we don’t need to tear apart every tiny hole in his game. We don’t need to turn one bad game into a thesis on why he’ll never be the best point guard in the league.
We can, at least every once and a while, shut up and appreciate his skills. We can admire his ballhandling, his finishing, and his shooting. We can treasure the fact that his skillset is unique, even among the NBA’s elite. We can rejoice in watching a basketball artist.
The best part: Kyrie Andrew Irving doesn’t turn 23 years old until March.
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