milky_way
01-18-2003, 02:56 AM
didn't ESPN mag just write one on him a couple weeks ago? :umm
Tenacious D
by Eric Adelson
ESPN The Magazine
The old joke from the comedy club scene goes something like this:
"I played some ball today. Went down to the local Y. Got into a pickup game. Notice it's never the tall, smooth guy with the perfect shot that scares you. It's the short, bald, hairy guy that's running around like a ferret. It's like he woke up this morning, drank a raw egg, looked at my picture stuck up on his mirror and vowed on his mother's grave not to let me get the ball. That guy terrifies me."
There's nothing Artest likes more than facing the league's top scorers.
Ron Artest is both. He's the smooth-shooting pro and the Ritalin-deprived ferret. And that makes him one of the best one-on-one defenders in the history of the league.
Skeptical? Ask Mark Aguirre, former member of one of the best-defending teams of all-time -- the turn-of-the-'90s Detroit Pistons. "He's like Dennis [Rodman], because he plays that hard and physical," says the Pacers assistant. "He's like Laimbeer, because he wants to be accountable for every play. And his defense - I've never seen defense played the way he plays defense."
For just about every other NBA player, defense is a duty -- a chore. Not for Artest. He loves D like Kobe loves shooting. "That's one thing I'm cocky about," Artest says. "I don't need any awards -- I just know. I'm the best defender in the league."
Why does Artest care so much? Just look at the original Ron Artest -- Ron's dad. Ron Sr., was a Golden Gloves boxer who taught his oldest son the importance of every one-on-one confrontation. Defending yourself is crucial in boxing, Ron Sr. insisted, and so it should be in basketball. So when Ron-Ron and his dad played on the hardcourts of Queensbridge, Ron, Sr. would grab and hold and shove and even tackle his kid to harden his will.
"It was nothing they would have allowed in the NBA," Ron, Sr. jokes.
But Ron-Ron took that style to high school, college and the pros. He taught himself to move just as quickly to his left as to his right -- a standard in boxing but much more rare in an NBA defender. And Artest lifted weights obsessively from the time he was a pre-teen, jabbing at ballhandlers until all his fingers were jammed and bowling over smaller players like a linebacker. Still today, Artest doesn't know his own strength. In a recent home game against the Sixers, Ron Mercer found himself isolated against Allen Iverson at the top of the key with the shot clock winding down. Artest came charging over to help and accidentally body-blocked Iverson onto his backside. (The play is pictured in the latest issue of The Magazine.) Iverson looked up at Artest with that "What are you smoking?" scowl as the ref called a flagrant. Artest came bounding over to the ref, smiled and pleaded, "But … but he's so small!"
There is something else Ron Artest got from his dad: sensitivity. Ron Sr. entered every match terrified that he would get knocked out. So he tried to intimidate his opponent in any way he could, and he ratcheted up his own intensity by making every bout personal. The son is no different. Every one-on-one situation is a test, and every point scored against him is a failure. "Watch his face when somebody gets by him," says longtime friend Elton Brand. "It just burns him." Most NBA players check their own scoring to see how they've done in a game. Ron Artest looks at his opponent's scoring.
Which explains Artest's most recent blowup. Latrell Sprewell scored 25 points on Artest last weekend at Madison Square Garden in a game the Pacers lost. Had this happened in some other city, Artest may have acted out less or not at all. (After allowing Michael Jordan his 3,000th point, for instance, Artest punched the scorer's table.) But this took place in New York, on the court where he starred for St. John's, in front of his people. Artest played well, but felt humiliated by Sprewell's success against him. So on his way to the locker room, Artest tossed a TV monitor and then smashed a $100,000 video camera. Knicks fans who rue their team's selection of Frederic Weis in the '99 Draft over Artest should take note. The pressure may have been too great for Ron-Ron in New York.
But Indianapolis? That's another story. He's surrounded by hard-working teammates, coaches with championship rings, easy-to-please fans, and just one daily beat writer. "This is his Shangri-La," says former St. John's coach Fran Fraschilla. So Artest stays up to an hour after every practice to hone his shot and think about his D. He has added variation to his style, which used to feature only bumping and arm-waving. Now he'll advance and then retreat, jab and then hold back. It's a hardwood rope-a-dope. The result is complete confusion. "You can see it in their eyes," says Pacers assistant Vern Fleming. "Sometimes I don't know if he's actually playing good D or if they're just scared."
Tenacious D
by Eric Adelson
ESPN The Magazine
The old joke from the comedy club scene goes something like this:
"I played some ball today. Went down to the local Y. Got into a pickup game. Notice it's never the tall, smooth guy with the perfect shot that scares you. It's the short, bald, hairy guy that's running around like a ferret. It's like he woke up this morning, drank a raw egg, looked at my picture stuck up on his mirror and vowed on his mother's grave not to let me get the ball. That guy terrifies me."
There's nothing Artest likes more than facing the league's top scorers.
Ron Artest is both. He's the smooth-shooting pro and the Ritalin-deprived ferret. And that makes him one of the best one-on-one defenders in the history of the league.
Skeptical? Ask Mark Aguirre, former member of one of the best-defending teams of all-time -- the turn-of-the-'90s Detroit Pistons. "He's like Dennis [Rodman], because he plays that hard and physical," says the Pacers assistant. "He's like Laimbeer, because he wants to be accountable for every play. And his defense - I've never seen defense played the way he plays defense."
For just about every other NBA player, defense is a duty -- a chore. Not for Artest. He loves D like Kobe loves shooting. "That's one thing I'm cocky about," Artest says. "I don't need any awards -- I just know. I'm the best defender in the league."
Why does Artest care so much? Just look at the original Ron Artest -- Ron's dad. Ron Sr., was a Golden Gloves boxer who taught his oldest son the importance of every one-on-one confrontation. Defending yourself is crucial in boxing, Ron Sr. insisted, and so it should be in basketball. So when Ron-Ron and his dad played on the hardcourts of Queensbridge, Ron, Sr. would grab and hold and shove and even tackle his kid to harden his will.
"It was nothing they would have allowed in the NBA," Ron, Sr. jokes.
But Ron-Ron took that style to high school, college and the pros. He taught himself to move just as quickly to his left as to his right -- a standard in boxing but much more rare in an NBA defender. And Artest lifted weights obsessively from the time he was a pre-teen, jabbing at ballhandlers until all his fingers were jammed and bowling over smaller players like a linebacker. Still today, Artest doesn't know his own strength. In a recent home game against the Sixers, Ron Mercer found himself isolated against Allen Iverson at the top of the key with the shot clock winding down. Artest came charging over to help and accidentally body-blocked Iverson onto his backside. (The play is pictured in the latest issue of The Magazine.) Iverson looked up at Artest with that "What are you smoking?" scowl as the ref called a flagrant. Artest came bounding over to the ref, smiled and pleaded, "But … but he's so small!"
There is something else Ron Artest got from his dad: sensitivity. Ron Sr. entered every match terrified that he would get knocked out. So he tried to intimidate his opponent in any way he could, and he ratcheted up his own intensity by making every bout personal. The son is no different. Every one-on-one situation is a test, and every point scored against him is a failure. "Watch his face when somebody gets by him," says longtime friend Elton Brand. "It just burns him." Most NBA players check their own scoring to see how they've done in a game. Ron Artest looks at his opponent's scoring.
Which explains Artest's most recent blowup. Latrell Sprewell scored 25 points on Artest last weekend at Madison Square Garden in a game the Pacers lost. Had this happened in some other city, Artest may have acted out less or not at all. (After allowing Michael Jordan his 3,000th point, for instance, Artest punched the scorer's table.) But this took place in New York, on the court where he starred for St. John's, in front of his people. Artest played well, but felt humiliated by Sprewell's success against him. So on his way to the locker room, Artest tossed a TV monitor and then smashed a $100,000 video camera. Knicks fans who rue their team's selection of Frederic Weis in the '99 Draft over Artest should take note. The pressure may have been too great for Ron-Ron in New York.
But Indianapolis? That's another story. He's surrounded by hard-working teammates, coaches with championship rings, easy-to-please fans, and just one daily beat writer. "This is his Shangri-La," says former St. John's coach Fran Fraschilla. So Artest stays up to an hour after every practice to hone his shot and think about his D. He has added variation to his style, which used to feature only bumping and arm-waving. Now he'll advance and then retreat, jab and then hold back. It's a hardwood rope-a-dope. The result is complete confusion. "You can see it in their eyes," says Pacers assistant Vern Fleming. "Sometimes I don't know if he's actually playing good D or if they're just scared."