Players don’t decline because there’s some sort of set length that players can be great, they usually decline because of their age.

tyrus has company.

I mean, if McHale had reached a tipping point with Garnett a year earlier, he goes to the Bulls and Jefferson hasn’t proven himself enough to compare to their package. Possibly the same with Ray Allen and the cheap-o Seattle crew.

Boston got desperate because Pierce was getting antzy and they traded for an above-average but nothing special Ray Allen to go alongside him. Without Garnett, that’s a crap move. They then got a favor from a friend who was finally desperate enough himself to let Garnett leave.

And then, of course, is the fact that Tom Thibadeau-who may or may not be as important as those two but definitely important-happened to be available to build a defensive scheme that worked excellently.

But anyway… holy use of selective statistics J.A. on the ‘age of champions’ chart. criminy!

I missed that line in the article I guess.

Instead, I think the premise was: real basketball teams aren’t like fantasy teams. It’s not like Step 1: throw good players on the court; Step 2: ?; Step 3: championship! Step 2 actually turns out to be crucial, and it’s a largely psychological/developmental thing. Or put another way: talent doesn’t win championships alone.

Or maybe another way: their “superstar” status wasn’t just about their physical talent or stat production, but was about their drive/psychology/personality as well (the point about Pierce “knowing what to do” because he was raised in winning traditions). To say “they had three superstars” already presupposes the larger point of what makes a championship-level superstar.

Even with that, though, being part of a culture heightens one’s ability and reinforces one’s resolve. Why do you think morale is so important in a military? Why do the Marines inculcate such a feeling of superiority and pride in the organization? If you remember when the Celtics won last year, all Paul Pierce could talk about was his place in Celtics history, in winning for such a storied franchise (and probably thinking about his own jersey hanging in the Garden some day), in appologizing for all the losing, in returning the Celtics to their “rightful place.” That wasn’t just cliche. In a tough moment (like, say, the Atlanta series?), the thought of “we’re the Celtics, we don’t lose to teams like the Hawks” figured in. It had to. If that thought were “we’re the Grizzlies,” the predicate would be a bit different, don’t you think?

From the Bulls’ perspective, this cuts both ways. For the entirety of the 90s, we were on top. That’s a tradition to be proud of, and an organizational ethos that can be employed. However, lots of that gets pinned on “Jordan” or “Phil” or “Scottie” and not “the Bulls,” which cuts the other way. Furthermore, the most successful teams in the league have an identifiable identity. They have plans, and they get players to buy into it and it’s constant. That was Phil’s great talent as a coach. That’s D’Antoni’s great talent. That’s the success of the Spurs. It’s why guys like Skiles and Larry Brown can come in and shape up a wayward team in short time. And it’s one of the things that’s missing with the Bulls right now: people don’t know what the plan is. We don’t have an ethos. There’s nothing to believe in beyond the bare-bones objective of playing well and winning, because winning is better than losing. That only takes you so far. Success breeds success, and success comes from an expectation of success, a belief in its possibility, belief that there’s no other option.