Clippers coach Mike Dunleavy in a relatively relaxed moment.
The Los Angeles Clippers are absolutely wretched, useless, worse than even the most cynical of commentators could have predicted. They’ve lost nine of their ten games, and only two of those matches have been away from the safety of the Staples Center.
Their sole victory was hardly inspiring, coming at home over an imploding Mavericks team caught between a desire to blood their young, and a need to win before their ageing veterans are shipped off to local nursing homes. After that lacklustre victory, Baron Davis tried to reassure the punters, and his teammates, and himself: ‘We let a couple of games get away that we had control of,’ he said. ‘But once you get that first one, it just takes the monkey of your back and you realize that you know how to win.’
Sorry Baron, but the monkey still rides. After that brief moment of Cuban-beating glory, the Clippers were wrecked by a shocking Kings squad, demolished by a Warriors team bound for the lottery, then narrowly beaten by an injury-riddled Spurs squad.
These are not good times for Los Angeles’ other team. Billy Crystal hasn’t slept in two weeks. He wanders the empty halls at the Clippers’ training centre in the dead of night, quietly weeping into a game-used Elton Brand jersey.
What’s going wrong with this team? Apart from, like, everything?
The problem lies exactly where most observers expected it would: chemistry, camraderie, the team dynamic. You wonder if this Clippers squad, so enthusiastically and haphazardly cobbled together in the off-season, can make it work, but it doesn’t look good.
Not with Marcus Camby phoning it in, as if actual games are just an unfortunate distraction, an irritating roadblock until he ends up on a team that isn’t cursed. He doesn’t look especially healthy, or motivated, and he’s clearly still disgusted at the crude manner in which the Nuggets dumped him –like a defensively-minded kidnap victim who woke up in East LA with a fat wallet and instructions to get to the arena.
Baron Davis looks like you don’t want Baron Davis to look; far too confident in his shot, too lazy to drive, bored, distracted. There’s no fire in him. He’s shooting 36.4% from the field, and going to the line just 3.4 times a game. His steals are down, and his three-point shot is wretched (23.3%). Diddy is living up to every critics’ nastiest claims: that his health last year was a contract year effort, that he isn’t a leader, that he inked a deal with the Clippers because he loves Los Angeles, not the team that goes with it.
The fact that Mike Dunleavy – a coach that, uh, seems to rub some players the wrong way (how’s the bay, Corey?) – is already butting heads with Baron doesn’t bode well. (Stephen Jackson diagnosed the problem after his Warriors beat Baron and his new team: ‘It’s kind of difficult for [Baron]. He likes playing fast and he likes having the ball a lot. They run a lot of isolation plays with the two and three guards and he doesn’t really get a chance to do his thing.’
Ugh! My team bad!
Ricky Davis? His career looks all but over, jacking up ugly shots at a 32.3% clip, bludging on defense, adding nothing. Chris Kaman looks confused – more so than usual — whenever he looks around and sees Camby clogging up his paint. Al Thornton looks promising, just like he did last year. He isn’t yet the long-limbed offensive juggernaut many expected might emerge this season.
None of it is working, and it doesn’t make much sense. On paper, the Clippers should be a tenacious (albeit often ineffective) defensive squad, with Diddy gambling on steals, Camby swatting from the weakside, Kaman taking up room in the lane, and Thornton dogging the wings. On paper, the Clippers should be strong offensively, with sweet-shooting threats (Baron, Eric Gordon, Al Thornton, Ricky Davis every 4th game), a monster with surprising finesse in Chris Kaman, and a passing big man in Camby. On paper, the Clippers shouldn’t be the second-worst team in the West (only the Faux-Sonics are worse).
But games aren’t played on paper, and in the real world, this Clippers team is horrific.
Should the players go for post-game drinks? Do they need to play poker together? Would a big barbecue in Mike Dunleavy’s backyard help? We don’t know. But if the Clippers want to win, they better start talking to each other. As it is, they look like bewildered strangers bound only by contractual obligation, not a desire to win.
Posted By: Anton
