I don’t really follow the NBA anymore. To keep it short, it’s become a horrible product but I still have some affinity for the Utah Jazz. With the Jazz on a downward spiral into the playoffs, I started drawing parallels to other collapses I’ve witnessed.
Whenever I see or hear about Carlos Boozer lately, I have flashbacks of this guy I knew in high school. I say ‘knew’ in the sense that I was aware who the guy was, but I don’t think I ever had a conversation with him.
His name was Brent, I think. Brent H-something? We’ll just go with Brent to avoid any possible ‘legal entanglements’. Anyway, I first began to hear about him in ninth grade. I had finally made the junior high basketball team and he was a player at one of the other four junior highs in town, our main rival, and he was a force to be reckoned with.
He was a freak (in the complimentary, athletically-gifted sense). About 6’ 2-3”, long arms and just built to be an athlete. He was a multi-sport star and the high school coaches couldn’t wait to get their hands on him. For the couple series I had to guard him during that first 9th Grade basketball game against his team, he absolutely destroyed me.
We ended up going to the same high school and the buzz among the high school athletics groupies and parents around town was about what Brent was going to do. See, he already had a reputation as someone who didn’t want to work hard. He was barely getting by in school and was starting to focus more on weed than anything else. Brent didn’t go out for the sophomore basketball team and he either didn’t join or ended up quitting the JV football team.
By the time Brent flamed out, I had been quietly plugging away at basketball for years. I logged endless hours in the gym trying to make the basketball team. I had gone from not being able to make a layup during 7th Grade tryouts (true story!) to making the 9th Grade and sophomore teams and a spot on the varsity team was assured going into my junior year. Opposing teams certainly weren’t game-planning for me, but I had worked my way into a position as a solid contributor.
Despite my modest accomplishments (which I was happy about), the ‘Brent H-something Story’ drove me nuts. I was squeezing every drop of ability out of my body, like so much cola from a ShamWow, for a chance to come off the bench. Brent was (possibly) throwing away college scholarships so he could smoke pot, blow off school and play a gang-banging poseur.
And now we arrive at Carlos Boozer, the cautionary tale. This guy could be great. He could find himself in the discussion of the greatest NBA forwards. On a team with one of, if not the best point guards in the league and a solid supporting cast, he could lead his team to championship glory.
Instead, he’ll probably lead his team to a lightning-fast, first-round playoff exit. He rehabs ‘injuries’ with all the enthusiasm of my kids eating a bowl of raw broccoli. He spends as little time with the team as possible (drop in a tired, played quip about Salt Lake City’s nightlife here). He is The Grand Matador of defense. There must be an invisible force field keeping him out of the key when it’s time to get a rebound. He’s already let everyone know that he’s opting out of the final year of his Jazz contract so he can make more $$$ somewhere else. Doesn’t matter where, as long as the money is green. So much potential untapped because he wants to put forth the absolute minimum amount of effort needed to pick up his check.
I guess Boozer isn’t much different from a lot of people in his approach to his job. He just has a higher-profile career. He’s the ‘Brent H-something Story’ on the grandest scale. It’s a drama we’ve all seen play out (sometimes first hand) in a variety of settings. Even so, after 15+ years, some things still don’t make sense.
No comments:
Post a Comment