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Ailene Voisin: Arco is going to be wild; Artest needs to stay calm
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PDT Friday, April 28, 2006
Ron Artest has absolutely no clue. The legendary playoff atmosphere at Arco Arena - that annual assault on the ears - is a very individual mind and body experience. There is no skipping a grade here. You have to appear in person to fully appreciate the collective power of purple, the shrill persistence of cowbells, the short distance between fans and foes. Visitors hate the old barn almost as much as the Maloofs. (Insert the co-owners' latest new arena plug here.) And now that Artest is a King, the building is back up to code. Fans still spill tears following the latest in an ongoing series of classic postseason defeats - and that would be Game 2 in San Antonio - but at least they care enough to stomp their feet.
Three months ago, embalming fluid had replaced microbrew as the drink of choice at Arco concession stands. Season-ticket holders were threatening to save pennies for summer vacation. The perplexing lethargy that seized the Kings on the court engulfed an entire region, left fans fantasizing about Vlade Divac passes and Doug Christie backcuts, and in a real stretch, of Chris Webber and two healthy knees.
Then Artest arrived, and the Kings began to play hardball. Arco became a danger zone - hard hats sold on request - and Artest, the newcomer with the turbulent portfolio, was easy to embrace. With the 6-foot-7, 260-pound small forward choreographing play with his passion and work ethic, his lust for steals and loose balls enlivened his teammates, prodding them into joining his act.
"We needed a kick in the (butt)," Brad Miller said during the late-season surge.
That's the Artest the Kings need tonight. The Artest on the edge, not jumping into outer space. The Artest with the hands of a skillful pickpocket, who sets wicked screens, who takes charges, who keeps his sharp elbows to himself, or at least, delivers them well below the neck. The Artest who performs with a seductive, controlled fury.
Perhaps most important, the Kings need the Artest who imitates Michael Jordan on defense, who realizes he isn't MJ at the other end. More passes and fewer shots fit right into Rick Adelman's game plan. And though Artest sounds a bit like President Bush on energy conservation - a little late in the game to be particularly convincing - he insists that he will overcome his tendency to cling to the ball. That he, too, shall pass.
"I'll do what I do, what I did earlier in the season," a subdued Artest said Thursday at the Kings' practice facility. "Get my guys involved more. Do what I do well, play defense, and rebound better."
He watched Game 2. He noted the difference. In contrast to the series-opening rout in San Antonio, the Kings on Tuesday came within another fateful bounce of an even series. Bonzi Wells attacked. Kevin Martin stroked jumpers and free throws. Shareef Abdur-Rahim scored with surprising ease in the fourth quarter. The Kings rebounded and ran - rare sightings in recent seasons - and positioned themselves for a chance at a victory, all while their best defender sat in his hotel room, undoubtedly agonizing on what might have been.
"We know we should have won," said Martin, "and we know what we have to do (tonight). We want to keep running at them, and now we have Ron back. We just have to do more of the same things but not make that (last) mistake."
For the Kings to extend this best-of-seven series against the heavily favored defending champs, a few things have to change. The perimeter defense has to become an area of concentration. Late-game execution has to be paramount. They have to force the pace and attempt to escape the Spurs' stingy interior defense, and in general, respond with a poised, collaborative, effort.
And that noise? That home-court emotion?
It has to become an advantage, not an impediment, and certainly not a crutch. Artest, in particular, can't be seduced by the crowd or the moment, or overwhelmed by the urge to prove himself all over again. Ron-Ron can't go bye-bye this time. His immediate task is to spin a new postseason rap - no more forcing field-goal attempts in the opening minutes, or at any time forgetting about the NBA suits and their tendency to scrutinize every twitch of his every muscle, to heavily monitor his every word.
"Do the same things I did when we won games," Artest said. "I'm not going to think about putting the team on my shoulders. On this team we don't accept moral victories. I still thought they should have won without me. But we'll get it back in Game 3."
Is Ron Artest in control of the body? Of the mind? Of the defense?
This is Arco Arena. This can get crazy, but Artest, he has to stay cool.
Link
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PDT Friday, April 28, 2006
Ron Artest has absolutely no clue. The legendary playoff atmosphere at Arco Arena - that annual assault on the ears - is a very individual mind and body experience. There is no skipping a grade here. You have to appear in person to fully appreciate the collective power of purple, the shrill persistence of cowbells, the short distance between fans and foes. Visitors hate the old barn almost as much as the Maloofs. (Insert the co-owners' latest new arena plug here.) And now that Artest is a King, the building is back up to code. Fans still spill tears following the latest in an ongoing series of classic postseason defeats - and that would be Game 2 in San Antonio - but at least they care enough to stomp their feet.
Three months ago, embalming fluid had replaced microbrew as the drink of choice at Arco concession stands. Season-ticket holders were threatening to save pennies for summer vacation. The perplexing lethargy that seized the Kings on the court engulfed an entire region, left fans fantasizing about Vlade Divac passes and Doug Christie backcuts, and in a real stretch, of Chris Webber and two healthy knees.
Then Artest arrived, and the Kings began to play hardball. Arco became a danger zone - hard hats sold on request - and Artest, the newcomer with the turbulent portfolio, was easy to embrace. With the 6-foot-7, 260-pound small forward choreographing play with his passion and work ethic, his lust for steals and loose balls enlivened his teammates, prodding them into joining his act.
"We needed a kick in the (butt)," Brad Miller said during the late-season surge.
That's the Artest the Kings need tonight. The Artest on the edge, not jumping into outer space. The Artest with the hands of a skillful pickpocket, who sets wicked screens, who takes charges, who keeps his sharp elbows to himself, or at least, delivers them well below the neck. The Artest who performs with a seductive, controlled fury.
Perhaps most important, the Kings need the Artest who imitates Michael Jordan on defense, who realizes he isn't MJ at the other end. More passes and fewer shots fit right into Rick Adelman's game plan. And though Artest sounds a bit like President Bush on energy conservation - a little late in the game to be particularly convincing - he insists that he will overcome his tendency to cling to the ball. That he, too, shall pass.
"I'll do what I do, what I did earlier in the season," a subdued Artest said Thursday at the Kings' practice facility. "Get my guys involved more. Do what I do well, play defense, and rebound better."
He watched Game 2. He noted the difference. In contrast to the series-opening rout in San Antonio, the Kings on Tuesday came within another fateful bounce of an even series. Bonzi Wells attacked. Kevin Martin stroked jumpers and free throws. Shareef Abdur-Rahim scored with surprising ease in the fourth quarter. The Kings rebounded and ran - rare sightings in recent seasons - and positioned themselves for a chance at a victory, all while their best defender sat in his hotel room, undoubtedly agonizing on what might have been.
"We know we should have won," said Martin, "and we know what we have to do (tonight). We want to keep running at them, and now we have Ron back. We just have to do more of the same things but not make that (last) mistake."
For the Kings to extend this best-of-seven series against the heavily favored defending champs, a few things have to change. The perimeter defense has to become an area of concentration. Late-game execution has to be paramount. They have to force the pace and attempt to escape the Spurs' stingy interior defense, and in general, respond with a poised, collaborative, effort.
And that noise? That home-court emotion?
It has to become an advantage, not an impediment, and certainly not a crutch. Artest, in particular, can't be seduced by the crowd or the moment, or overwhelmed by the urge to prove himself all over again. Ron-Ron can't go bye-bye this time. His immediate task is to spin a new postseason rap - no more forcing field-goal attempts in the opening minutes, or at any time forgetting about the NBA suits and their tendency to scrutinize every twitch of his every muscle, to heavily monitor his every word.
"Do the same things I did when we won games," Artest said. "I'm not going to think about putting the team on my shoulders. On this team we don't accept moral victories. I still thought they should have won without me. But we'll get it back in Game 3."
Is Ron Artest in control of the body? Of the mind? Of the defense?
This is Arco Arena. This can get crazy, but Artest, he has to stay cool.
Link
