Destination Portland: A Big Man, a Small Place
By SELENA ROBERTS
Sports of The Times
June 29, 2007
Greg Oden is not a destination snob. Without an ounce of hat envy, Oden tugged on a white Portland cap last night, eager for an eco-friendly embrace from thousands of outdoorsy folks who have one indoor vice: the Trail Blazers.
He will take his No. 1 draft status and happily disappear into the Pacific Northwest, where he will play in a 50-watt market for a quirky billionaire owner with a Jimi Hendrix fixation.
He will pack his post moves, blocking skills and Bill Russell’s advice and gladly play in the Rose Garden, where his performances will register on the East Coast only with night watchmen and insomniacs.
Obscurity is hip to Oden. Outposts are in with him. His grin wasn’t staged or forced or for the cameras. He was genuinely thrilled about his initial step as an N.B.A. player.
But what is the longevity of a first impression? It can last a decade.
The N.B.A.’s draft night functioned as a reliable case study for the temperament and character of Tim Duncan and Kobe Bryant.
In 1997, Duncan couldn’t wait to fit into the low-key life of San Antonio as a willing apprentice to David Robinson, with only titles on his mind. From the beginning, Duncan foreshadowed his greatness.
Bryant foreshadowed his gall. In 1996, Bryant, a teenager exiting high school for the N.B.A., was not the first pick, but he exuded self-importance when he refused to play anywhere but Hollywood.
With the 13th selection, with a deal to trade Bryant to Los Angeles in pocket, Charlotte chose him. But there was a point where it looked as if the Lakers’ Vlade Divac would retire rather than take part in a trade that would send him to Charlotte for Bryant.
Couldn’t Bryant be a Hornet? Could he grow to love Southern sweet tea?
“That is an impossibility,” Bryant’s agent, Arn Tellem, said at the time. “There are no ifs. It would not happen. He is going to be a Laker, and that’s the only team he’s playing for.”
Bryant got what he wanted. Always has in Los Angeles. Now the address has lost its luster with losing. He wants out of the place he once demanded for his arrival.
For weeks, Bryant has been crying for a trade when he is actually screaming for relevance.
What he doesn’t realize is that this is not his league anymore. This is not the N.B.A. of isolation plays and diva desires. Entitlement is so Jordan era. In 1997, Duncan was considered a throwback. These days, he is retro cool.
More stars are emulating Duncan’s magnanimous philosophy — and the Spurs’ united team concept — than ever before. Unselfishness is all the rage when a luminary like LeBron James is, of all things, scrutinized for his serial inclusion of teammates, when Dwyane Wade will do what Bryant would not in allowing Shaquille O’Neal to remain the big man on campus in Miami, when Steve Nash has become a celebrity of distribution.
Modesty is the trend. And Oden fits right in.
Is he on his way to becoming Duncan? There are no lemon laws for draft picks, so there is no guarantee Oden will fulfill the hype of his draft selection, but he is off to a Duncanesque start.
Oden will play in a city small enough to let him grow, with a support system wide enough to help him develop, but for a team that needs him more than San Antonio ever needed Duncan.
Oden is, at only 19, being asked to redraw the caricature of an organization known for its history of cartoonish miscreants, from Rasheed Wallace’s tantrums to Damon Stoudemire’s pot habits.
Oden will enter a franchise weary of hearing police sirens going off in the middle of the night. Not a problem, Oden assured. “I have a 1:30 a.m. bedtime limit,” he said, joking last night. “So I won’t be out at night.”
•
One troublemaker, Zach Randolph, won’t be around to influence Oden after a trade last night. Who were the suckers for the bad boy? The Knicks, a team stuck on the outdated paradigm of going for a big name over a strategy with substance.
Substance is the N.B.A.’s hot commodity. As Kevin Pritchard, the Trail Blazers’ general manager, has said, Oden represents the new Trail Blazers: “Away from the old and Jail Blazer image to one of being unselfish and tough and putting the team first and team goal ahead of individuals.”
Duncan was the vision of unity after winning his fourth championship ring this month. He rubbed Tony Parker on the head, then stepped back and faded into the confetti as his teammate claimed the Most Valuable Player trophy.
Such graciousness has always escaped Bryant. Even as last night’s N.B.A. draft played out, talk of Bryant’s trade desires dominated the discussion.
Petulance is old news, though. Oden would display none of it. He was going to Portland, to hang in the shadow of Mount Hood, to mingle among the eco-friendly.
In a way, Oden, after a long week in Manhattan, couldn’t wait for obscurity.
In this way, he was decidedly Duncan on draft night, making a nice first impression that may last an entire career.
E-mail: selenasports@nytimes.com
Sports of The Times
June 29, 2007
Greg Oden is not a destination snob. Without an ounce of hat envy, Oden tugged on a white Portland cap last night, eager for an eco-friendly embrace from thousands of outdoorsy folks who have one indoor vice: the Trail Blazers.
He will take his No. 1 draft status and happily disappear into the Pacific Northwest, where he will play in a 50-watt market for a quirky billionaire owner with a Jimi Hendrix fixation.
He will pack his post moves, blocking skills and Bill Russell’s advice and gladly play in the Rose Garden, where his performances will register on the East Coast only with night watchmen and insomniacs.
Obscurity is hip to Oden. Outposts are in with him. His grin wasn’t staged or forced or for the cameras. He was genuinely thrilled about his initial step as an N.B.A. player.
But what is the longevity of a first impression? It can last a decade.
The N.B.A.’s draft night functioned as a reliable case study for the temperament and character of Tim Duncan and Kobe Bryant.
In 1997, Duncan couldn’t wait to fit into the low-key life of San Antonio as a willing apprentice to David Robinson, with only titles on his mind. From the beginning, Duncan foreshadowed his greatness.
Bryant foreshadowed his gall. In 1996, Bryant, a teenager exiting high school for the N.B.A., was not the first pick, but he exuded self-importance when he refused to play anywhere but Hollywood.
With the 13th selection, with a deal to trade Bryant to Los Angeles in pocket, Charlotte chose him. But there was a point where it looked as if the Lakers’ Vlade Divac would retire rather than take part in a trade that would send him to Charlotte for Bryant.
Couldn’t Bryant be a Hornet? Could he grow to love Southern sweet tea?
“That is an impossibility,” Bryant’s agent, Arn Tellem, said at the time. “There are no ifs. It would not happen. He is going to be a Laker, and that’s the only team he’s playing for.”
Bryant got what he wanted. Always has in Los Angeles. Now the address has lost its luster with losing. He wants out of the place he once demanded for his arrival.
For weeks, Bryant has been crying for a trade when he is actually screaming for relevance.
What he doesn’t realize is that this is not his league anymore. This is not the N.B.A. of isolation plays and diva desires. Entitlement is so Jordan era. In 1997, Duncan was considered a throwback. These days, he is retro cool.
More stars are emulating Duncan’s magnanimous philosophy — and the Spurs’ united team concept — than ever before. Unselfishness is all the rage when a luminary like LeBron James is, of all things, scrutinized for his serial inclusion of teammates, when Dwyane Wade will do what Bryant would not in allowing Shaquille O’Neal to remain the big man on campus in Miami, when Steve Nash has become a celebrity of distribution.
Modesty is the trend. And Oden fits right in.
Is he on his way to becoming Duncan? There are no lemon laws for draft picks, so there is no guarantee Oden will fulfill the hype of his draft selection, but he is off to a Duncanesque start.
Oden will play in a city small enough to let him grow, with a support system wide enough to help him develop, but for a team that needs him more than San Antonio ever needed Duncan.
Oden is, at only 19, being asked to redraw the caricature of an organization known for its history of cartoonish miscreants, from Rasheed Wallace’s tantrums to Damon Stoudemire’s pot habits.
Oden will enter a franchise weary of hearing police sirens going off in the middle of the night. Not a problem, Oden assured. “I have a 1:30 a.m. bedtime limit,” he said, joking last night. “So I won’t be out at night.”
•
One troublemaker, Zach Randolph, won’t be around to influence Oden after a trade last night. Who were the suckers for the bad boy? The Knicks, a team stuck on the outdated paradigm of going for a big name over a strategy with substance.
Substance is the N.B.A.’s hot commodity. As Kevin Pritchard, the Trail Blazers’ general manager, has said, Oden represents the new Trail Blazers: “Away from the old and Jail Blazer image to one of being unselfish and tough and putting the team first and team goal ahead of individuals.”
Duncan was the vision of unity after winning his fourth championship ring this month. He rubbed Tony Parker on the head, then stepped back and faded into the confetti as his teammate claimed the Most Valuable Player trophy.
Such graciousness has always escaped Bryant. Even as last night’s N.B.A. draft played out, talk of Bryant’s trade desires dominated the discussion.
Petulance is old news, though. Oden would display none of it. He was going to Portland, to hang in the shadow of Mount Hood, to mingle among the eco-friendly.
In a way, Oden, after a long week in Manhattan, couldn’t wait for obscurity.
In this way, he was decidedly Duncan on draft night, making a nice first impression that may last an entire career.
E-mail: selenasports@nytimes.com
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