http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/basketball/kings/story/14252427p-15068545c.html
Ailene Voisin: Tim Duncan was simply too much
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Columnist
Published 2:15 am PDT Saturday, May 6, 2006
At their best, the Kings had a chance.
At their worst - and this was close - this was no contest.
That seventh game in San Antonio will have to wait for another time, another season. The matchup that began with a Spurs spanking, evolved into a surprisingly competitive series with big shots and bigger moments, essentially ended Friday when Ron Artest limped off, Tim Duncan leaped up, and the defending world champions demonstrated exactly why they're the league's model franchise.
When the Kings grow up, they want to be Spurs.
When the Kings grow up...
They will protect the ball, move the ball, move the body, play with poise. They will dart into the lane like Tony Parker, defend like Bruce Bowen, come off the bench like the Spurs' reserves - stroking threes, stealing passes, forcing turnovers, clogging the lane - and somehow grow bigger and stronger and faster, so that the next time Duncan comes to town, he can't just stand out there, surveying the scene, dominating the setting.
Meantime, good night and good luck.
The Big Fundamental might as well be called the Big Difference. The Kings can write on the blackboard a million times - though shalt not let Timmy do this again - but the two-time Most Valuable Player has made a career out of reaching up and taking whatever he wants, taking over when it matters.
Take that stretch in the second quarter of the series clincher: After the Spurs had closed to 36-35, Duncan tipped an offensive rebound, grabbed another, was fouled and converted two free throws. Then he challenged Wells along the baseline, causing the Kings guard to miss a drive. Then he blew into the lane and threw down a one-handed dunk.
Then he just sort of stepped to the side - figuratively speaking - and watched Parker scoot underneath, Bowen drill threes, Robert Horry swipe rebounds, and every other teammate seemingly contribute something.
"We're a lot better team when we don't just stand there and watch Timmy," Brent Barry noted the other day.
Yet this No. 8 vs. No. 1 matchup wasn't about the muscle of Artest and Wells, the timely steal by Mike Bibby, the acrobatic drive by Kevin Martin. It wasn't Barry's dagger three, the Kings' three-minute defensive lapse in Game 5, not nearly as much as it was about the dominating presence of Duncan.
He is too tall, too gifted, too experienced.
Though listed at 6-foot-11, and bearing little physical resemblance to the prototypical, muscle-bound power forward, Duncan has the wingspan of two normal-sized people.
He doesn't need a high jumper's vertical leap because his length and extension enable him to separate from opponents for layups, bank shots, jumpers. His screens are quietly deadly. His defensive presence is imposing.
His footwork is extraordinary - no wasted motion, almost never takes that extra stride that once was called traveling, but today is allowed because most referees either can't see or can't count.
So if you're the Kings - or for that matter, the Mavericks, Pistons, Suns, Lakers, etc. - the defensive options are limited, and not particularly effective. Smother him. Singlecover him. Help with Artest, with Wells, with just about everyone else on the floor. The Kings probably even tried stepping on his sore right foot, though they, too, swear they prefer to play within the rules.
But the beauty of the Spurs - and I will never understand why the television audience routinely overlooks their sex appeal - is reflected in their balance and symmetry, their ability to play off their best player. An opponent's defensive lapses are exploited en masse. If it's not Duncan on the inside, it's Ginobili with one of his slicing drives, Parker scooting around Timmy's back (those screens) and sinking those 18-footers. Or it's Bowen, Barry and Horry from the corners. Sometimes, it's Nazr Mohammed underneath.
Always, though, Duncan is looming and lurking.
"I thought our defense got us through tonight," said Spurs coach Gregg Popovich. "We played very good team defense, and we played it for most of the 48 minutes. (And) I think the depth we have maybe took its toll over time."
For the Kings to extend the series, to continue their impressive late-season and postseason comeback, it was imperative that they play a nearly perfect game. The Kings probably needed to be a little lucky, too, hoping Duncan - not Artest - would end the evening with a limp instead of a victory.
But the champs wanted Game 6, and wanted no part of Game 7.
They took what they wanted and taught a few lessons.
About the writer: Reach Ailene Voisin at (916) 321-1208 or avoisin@sacbee.com
Ailene Voisin: Tim Duncan was simply too much
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Columnist
Published 2:15 am PDT Saturday, May 6, 2006
At their best, the Kings had a chance.
At their worst - and this was close - this was no contest.
That seventh game in San Antonio will have to wait for another time, another season. The matchup that began with a Spurs spanking, evolved into a surprisingly competitive series with big shots and bigger moments, essentially ended Friday when Ron Artest limped off, Tim Duncan leaped up, and the defending world champions demonstrated exactly why they're the league's model franchise.
When the Kings grow up, they want to be Spurs.
When the Kings grow up...
They will protect the ball, move the ball, move the body, play with poise. They will dart into the lane like Tony Parker, defend like Bruce Bowen, come off the bench like the Spurs' reserves - stroking threes, stealing passes, forcing turnovers, clogging the lane - and somehow grow bigger and stronger and faster, so that the next time Duncan comes to town, he can't just stand out there, surveying the scene, dominating the setting.
Meantime, good night and good luck.
The Big Fundamental might as well be called the Big Difference. The Kings can write on the blackboard a million times - though shalt not let Timmy do this again - but the two-time Most Valuable Player has made a career out of reaching up and taking whatever he wants, taking over when it matters.
Take that stretch in the second quarter of the series clincher: After the Spurs had closed to 36-35, Duncan tipped an offensive rebound, grabbed another, was fouled and converted two free throws. Then he challenged Wells along the baseline, causing the Kings guard to miss a drive. Then he blew into the lane and threw down a one-handed dunk.
Then he just sort of stepped to the side - figuratively speaking - and watched Parker scoot underneath, Bowen drill threes, Robert Horry swipe rebounds, and every other teammate seemingly contribute something.
"We're a lot better team when we don't just stand there and watch Timmy," Brent Barry noted the other day.
Yet this No. 8 vs. No. 1 matchup wasn't about the muscle of Artest and Wells, the timely steal by Mike Bibby, the acrobatic drive by Kevin Martin. It wasn't Barry's dagger three, the Kings' three-minute defensive lapse in Game 5, not nearly as much as it was about the dominating presence of Duncan.
He is too tall, too gifted, too experienced.
Though listed at 6-foot-11, and bearing little physical resemblance to the prototypical, muscle-bound power forward, Duncan has the wingspan of two normal-sized people.
He doesn't need a high jumper's vertical leap because his length and extension enable him to separate from opponents for layups, bank shots, jumpers. His screens are quietly deadly. His defensive presence is imposing.
His footwork is extraordinary - no wasted motion, almost never takes that extra stride that once was called traveling, but today is allowed because most referees either can't see or can't count.
So if you're the Kings - or for that matter, the Mavericks, Pistons, Suns, Lakers, etc. - the defensive options are limited, and not particularly effective. Smother him. Singlecover him. Help with Artest, with Wells, with just about everyone else on the floor. The Kings probably even tried stepping on his sore right foot, though they, too, swear they prefer to play within the rules.
But the beauty of the Spurs - and I will never understand why the television audience routinely overlooks their sex appeal - is reflected in their balance and symmetry, their ability to play off their best player. An opponent's defensive lapses are exploited en masse. If it's not Duncan on the inside, it's Ginobili with one of his slicing drives, Parker scooting around Timmy's back (those screens) and sinking those 18-footers. Or it's Bowen, Barry and Horry from the corners. Sometimes, it's Nazr Mohammed underneath.
Always, though, Duncan is looming and lurking.
"I thought our defense got us through tonight," said Spurs coach Gregg Popovich. "We played very good team defense, and we played it for most of the 48 minutes. (And) I think the depth we have maybe took its toll over time."
For the Kings to extend the series, to continue their impressive late-season and postseason comeback, it was imperative that they play a nearly perfect game. The Kings probably needed to be a little lucky, too, hoping Duncan - not Artest - would end the evening with a limp instead of a victory.
But the champs wanted Game 6, and wanted no part of Game 7.
They took what they wanted and taught a few lessons.
About the writer: Reach Ailene Voisin at (916) 321-1208 or avoisin@sacbee.com
