Celtics don't back down from Rockets' challenge

 

The streak was certainly exciting, fascinating, and historical, but it's back to reality for the Rockets.

There are several reasons why the Celtics prevailed, but the initial attitude and subsequent performance of Rafer Alston figured large in the outcome.

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It all started immediately after the opening tipoff when Alston tried to intimidate Rajon Rondo (and the Celtics) with a few gratuitous shoves. But Alston's strong-arm didn't succeed. In fact, all that Alston accomplished was to reveal that he, like all bullies, isn't quite the he-man that he thinks he is. And when neither Rondo nor his teammates backed down, Alston's game fell apart.

Alston only shook loose from the Celtics' determined defense on three occasions — a running floater in the paint, a steal that led to a breakaway, as well an uncontested 3-ball that all flipped the net.

 

Otherwise, the Celtics concentrated on forcing Alston to put the ball on the floor under severe pressure. As a result, he had a game-high 4 turnovers.

 

Alston had difficulty finishing in a crowd. His 4-13 shooting included four no-chance shots in the paint.

 

And Rondo had the last laugh when he buried a pair of important jumpers early in the third quarter.

 

If Alston wasn't exactly a goat, he certainly failed to reprise the hero's role he achieved in win No. 22 against the Spurs.

Still, there were several other areas in which the Rockets fell short.

 

They were creamed on the boards — 45 to 35.

 

Leon Powe came off the bench to score 21 points, with seven of his eight buckets coming on power moves.

 

Luis Scola hustled and scrapped, but was too slow to contain Kevin Garnett. Indeed, except for gambling on stealing each and every entry pass, Scola was abused by KG.

 

Also, Scola couldn't get any kind of penetration when he put the ball on the floor — three turnovers. Still, he had a courageous game — 6-12, eight rebounds (four on offense) and 15 points.

 

Shane Battier was munched by Paul Pierce — 7-15, five assists, three steals, 20 points. For the most part, high brush-screens kept Battier's hands away from Pierce's face — PP was 1-3 when face-guarded.

 

NOTE — The league's refs routinely called face-guarding fouls until 3-4 years ago. But with the installation of the new no-defense rules, these same fouls began to be ignored — the idea being to prevent hand-to-shooting-arm fouls that would slow up the game. As it is, since the natural instinct is for shooters (as well as civilians) to move their heads away from an attacking hand, the license given to face-guarders impinges on a shooter's elevation and generally flattens the resulting shot.

 

Tracy McGrady was shut down by the Celtics aggressive double-teams. T-Mac was 3-10 on his jumpers, and 1-1 when he forced his way to the ring. The fact that he shot only a brace of free throws (0-2) demonstrated his disinclination to challenge the Celtics bigs and take a hit. His six drives-and-dishes accounted for most of his eight assists.

 

The Celtics advantage in offensive rebounds (16 to 11), steals (10 to 8), and turnovers (11-16) enabled the visitors to put up 88 shots to Houston's 70.

 

Houston also hurt itself by only shooting 11-18 from the stripe — a percentage that was boosted by some late, meaningless free throws by Aaron Brooks, who was 4-4 in garbage time.

Did the Rockets do anything right?

Absolutely.

 

During the first half their interior defense was scrappy and quick-handed, allowing only a single unimpeded layup by Tony Allen.

 

Mike Harris played like a keeper — 6-10, six rebounds, and 12 points.

 

Bobby Jackson — 3-5, six points in only 13 minutes — deserved more playing time. It was Jackson who made Cassell — 1-6, three turnovers — look his age.

 

As a team, the Rockets never stopped hustling.

In sum, the Celtics' defense was miles better than the rather stodgy Rockets' offense. Boston's size and strength also wore down the Rockets bigs in the second half. And Skip-to-m'Lou's street-tude didn't scare anybody.

Oh, well. Give the Rockets a standing ovation for their outstanding play. It sure was fun while it lasted.

Straight Shooting

There are always several pleasant surprises and abject disappointments over the course of any NBA season. Players (and teams) that unexpectedly perform either above or below expectations.

With the regular season rapidly approaching its conclusion, here are the most noticeable players in both categories.

Better than expected

 

Hedo Turkoglu had benefited greatly from his increased role. Andrew Bynum has come out of nowhere to challenge Dwight Howard as the league's most promising big man. Jordan Farmar has become a force off the Lakers' bench. Sasha Vujacic has developed to the point where he's on the floor in the endgames. Jose Calderon is now an elite point guard. After a nondescript two seasons with the Hornets, Brandon Bass has metamorphed into a powerhouse bench player. Somebody taught Luis Scola how to shoot a jump shot. After wandering around the court for the previous six seasons, Tyson Chandler is playing with emotion and confidence. Manu Ginobili has replaced Tim Duncan as the focus of San Antonio's offense. With a profound increase in his playing time, the defensive-minded Royal Ivey has moved from a third-string point guard to a starter. Al Jefferson has become a full-time monster in the middle. Chris Paul has become the undisputed master of the screen/roll offense. Leon Powe is a quick learner. Beno Udrih made Pop (and, me!) look like a nincompoop.

Worse than expected

 

Wally Szczerbiak has quickly gone from an All-Star to an afterthought. Yi Jianlian wasn't worth the trouble. Gerald Green still hasn't figured out how to utilize his all-star skills. Like Peter Pan, Tyrus Thomas just won't grow up. Andrea Bargnani still plays like he's 5-10. Eddy Curry is a victim of Zeke-itis. Charlie Bell got lost in the shuffle. Kirk Hinrich can't find the basket with a map. Father Time has absconded with Michael Finley's jumper. Steve Francis is homeless. Little was expected from Jerome James, but he's produced nothing. Jamaal Magloire has faded from obscurity into oblivion. Stephon Marbury is more noted as a shoe salesman than as a point guard. Ruben Patterson's career was poisoned when he was forced to eat his own rap sheet. Smush Parker took the money and ran his mouth. Damon Stoudamire's shooting touch is gone but not forgotten.

Vox Populi

"If you could pick any two current players to build a team around, who would they be and why?" — Matt Gonyea, Mount Pleasant, Md.

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That's easy.

Kobe Bryant, because he's a better shooter and defender than LeBron James, and can easily play both wing positions. Not to mention Kobe being one of the game's greatest clutch performers.

Tim Duncan, for his versatility and his championship-attitude. TD is a jack-of-all-trades and master of every one.

Kobe and TD would provide an inside presence as well as an outside one — and would enable a team to play inside-out basketball. Having them both on the floor would also discourage defenses from double-teaming either one.

There's no other possible combo that comes close.

Travels with Charley

The biggest on-court choke of my life took place in Madison Square Garden just prior to my senior season at Hunter College in New York.

I was coming off a highly productive junior year in which I averaged over 24 points and 16 rebounds per game. Just 10 days prior to my stinking up the Garden, we had engaged in a preseason scrimmage against Iona at their gym. Iona's center was a 6-10 strong man (whose name I've unfortunately forgotten) and, by actual count, I had scorched him for 18 consecutive jump shots. It was primarily on the strength of this that the Iona coach, the well-connected Jim McDermott, arranged for another scrimmage between us — this time at the Garden of Basketball Delights.

The idea was to showcase whatever talents I might have for the scrutiny of the Knicks' decision makers. And, indeed, there were several scouts and assistant coaches in the stands as the scrimmage began.

At the time, I was 20-years-old and completely intimidated by the entire situation. ME? PLAYING IN THE GARDEN? Not only couldn't I hit a jumper to save my life, but the ball seemed to weigh about 10 pounds and I couldn't even make my layups.

My failure at MSG totally destroyed my confidence to the point where all of my numbers decreased in my senior season. And even though the NBA draft consisted of 16 rounds, my name never came up.

Talk about Gardenitis!