Rockin’ Steady

UPDATE: So FreeDarko pretty much had the exact same thought process, right down to the invocation of Tracy Morgan. This is an astonishing and almost demoralizing coincidence. Maybe just don’t read this post, and wait for my parallels between David Lee and Norm MacDonald.

From New York City, this is Rockin’ Steady.
“They say that I’m crazy, but I’m crazy in love; that’s what it is.”
-Stephon Marbury

1. “That’s why they all say / There goes Astronaut Jones…”

Stephon Marbury’s utter batshit craziness crept up on me.

There were signs. At one point, while I was in college and Marbury was on the Nets, my friend Brian frantically IMed me to let me know that, in a curious development, the point guard had begun referring to himself in “the fourth person,” as someone named Starbury. I spent a full half hour debating the very idea of fourth-person reference, a concept I had never encountered but decided I rather liked. And I didn’t make much more of it than that.

There were little things after that. The odd interview nugget on those rare occasions when the Nets or Suns would make national television appearances. His philanthropic streak, rare among basketball players: he donated over a million dollars to Katrina relief efforts, and of course there was the $15 Starbury shoe, an idea so practical and socially aware that it probably should’ve prompted me to question his sanity. When the Knicks acquired Zach Randolph early this offseason, Stephon’s enthusiastic and ungrammatical reaction raised a single eyebrow, and only briefly. He conjured the mental image of a hardcourt-bound Manny Ramirez, only one who knows what sport he is playing and watches Sportscenter now and then.

I found this charming.

And then came Starbury’s answer to Crispin Glover on Letterman. Please, if you haven’t, watch the whole thing. We’ll still be here when it’s over.

And then, of course, there was this more recent episode, resolved (or finessed) just yesterday.

2. Watch Me Now

I, for one, welcome Marbury’s newfound insanity. I see it as a logical response to a basketball’s largely illogical response to him. The preferred basketball narrative concerning Marbury reads as follows:

a. Every time Marbury leaves a team, it gets better. See, e.g., Jason Kidd’s New Jersey Nets, Steve Nash’s Phoenix Suns.
b. This proves that Marbury is a selfish player.

Most who espouse this read are wholly unable to connect statement a to statement b in any non-tautological manner, and most are even more loathe to watch Stephon Marbury play and explain, as the game progresses, how this statement meshes with what transpires before them. In truth, Marbury has averaged an almost unprecedented 20 points and 8 assists for a reason, and has done so while decreasing his shot attempts over time. He is a prodigious penetrator who’s forays into the paint are often a team’s best scoring option. Even less appreciated fact: He is, for my money, the strongest point guard in the league, physically, and a pain for opposing point guards to cover (this is particularly true in playoff settings where the same guy has to cover him several times in a week–witness what Marbury did to the Spurs in their first round playoff series in Marbury’s last full Phoenix season). I’d like to see him post up every once in a while, a la Mark Jackson late in his career.

Sometimes, lightning strikes twice, and Kidd and Nash are among the best point guards ever to play the game. Consider contextual circumstances for each of those other episodes (the temporary ascendancy of Kenyon Martin and friends, the promotion and finally realized genius of Mike D’Antoni), and it’s even less surprising that the Nets and Suns improved after Marbury was traded.

The rap on Marbury continues uncorrected, and rhetorical convenience molds the collective memory regarding Coney Island’s finest. No one remembers how functional the (on-court) rapport between Marbury and Keith Van Horn was–on a playoff team–before the Knicks foolishly traded KVH for Tim Thomas. No one considers that Marbury and Kevin Garnett were about 16 years old when they experienced their growing pains as Timberwolves. And so on.

And so, Marbury has simply developed his own defense mechanism: Go mad. Say what you want, and have fun doing it, because no one will like you unless you win. Shun the non-Knick world–what care you what Knick fans think of your sanity? They won’t let themselves like you when you try to invade their “normal” space. Have fun and say and do what makes you happy, because a happy Stephon will be able to endure the mental and physical rigors of the 82 game marathon successfully. The nightly drive home from the Garden (or Purchase) is made more pleasant by taking the detour through Toontown, after all. Perhaps basketball and lunacy can fuse into something liberating and gorgeous.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

I pull hard for Stephon Marbury because his rap is undeserved and I like justice. I pull for him because I think he plays the game in a way that should, by any reasonable estimation, make teams better. And I pull for him because, deep down, I sense that he and I are kindred spirits…