Longform Shoals: Can We Cry for Marbury?

Last week, the Knicks were a laughingstock, and Stephon Marbury their clown prince.

They'd drifted so far beyond the pale that outrage or concern seemed like a waste. All we could do was kick back, enjoy the ride, and mine it for punchlines. FanHouse was certainly a part of this; our Chronicles of Marbury suggested, at various times, that the embattled point guard move to Italy, start a doomsday cult, and become an indie filmmaker.

Now, Marbury's father has died. We've found out that, over the last month, the point guard has lost several other family members. And that zany Knicks team has actually been a model of brotherhood for Steph, just as they were following Eddy Curry's home invasion and Zach Randolph's recent bereavement.

So now the media (me included) offers condolences and write in somber tones. But when tragedy befalls an oft-maligned athlete like Marbury, we might as well keep our mouths shut. If we haven't tried to empathize with him before now, how can we suddenly start now?

For all but the most callous journalists, Sean Taylor's murder was a time for grave reflection. While Taylor shunned reporters, the player's family, friends and teammates spoke in glowing terms of a thoughtful, serious man with a big heart and boundless love of football. Taylor's past indiscretions were behind him, and he'd matured into a dominant player and a D.C. icon.

Even if few people really knew Sean Taylor, his death resonated through the sports world like that of a fallen hero. But what if Taylor were still having problems on and off the field, and getting regularly grilled by the media? There might not be such an overwhelming rush of sympathy and sincerity.



When tragedy befalls this kind of screenplay-ready star, it's hard not to get emotional about it. When Brett Favre lost his father, there was extensive coverage, and every pass he threw was imbued with added significance. Honestly, I just can't see that happening for Stephon Marbury. I also don't anticipate Marbury being portrayed, as Tracy McGrady has in recent years, as a man made deeper and wiser by losing those close to him.

We've made such a mockery of Marbury over the last year that he's barely even human anymore. Acknowledging his loss is the right thing to do, but it's just a courtesy. I know that some things are more important than sports, or fandom, or rivalry. But whenever we're talking about athletes, there's a man or woman inside the media facade. There's always a good reason to be compassionate in our coverage.

Sports reporting, like most reporting, is made interesting through broad narratives. There are good guys and bad guys. The good guys are members of our family, while the bad guys are cartoon-ish butts of our jokes. When bad things happen to good people, we're moved. When they happen to bad people, well, we're either indifferent or feel vaguely guilty.



Consider: During last year's playoffs, Derek Fisher (already slated as a Good Guy) was nominated for sainthood when, in the middle of the Golden State series, he left the team to be with his ailing daughter, only to return and play well. Fisher was allowed to leave the Jazz and eventually sign with the Lakers. Los Angeles offered better medical care for Fisher's kid than Salt Lake City.

This week, Ron Artest (Bad Guy) has had to deal with a strikingly similar situation. His daughter, Diamond, has a cancerous tumor on her kidney. Artest is still the NBA's most notorious player, and as a family man still probably identified with last season's domestic abuse charge. Artest's family is still in Indianapolis, which is where Diamond is receiving her care. If he were to demand a trade to be near his daughter, you could count on one hand the seconds that would pass before the motivation of this demand was questioned.

The sad truth is, few will care about Ron Artest's daughter as much as they do Derek Fisher's. And Brett Favre's death in the family will always provoke emotion in a way that Stephon Marbury's just won't. I won't say it's nothing personal against Artest or Marbury-it most definitely is.

But it's also professional. It's also about where they fit in to the news business. Writers and readers just wouldn't even know where to start. And that's why, when we do offer condolences, they're always going to ring hollow.

Wool Shirt of the Week: Let Durant Play



A hairshirt makes you look silly and feel uncomfortable. A wool shirt looks good, but still makes you uncomfortable. The Wool Shirt of the Week calls out a player or team that makes my inner-fan jump off the couch -- while my inner-analyst snorts in contempt.

Over the weekend, I paid good money for Sonics/Warriors tickets. And while it's true that I got to see a scoreboard catch fire, and may have been only inches from Beelzebub himself, I didn't get to see much Kevin Durant. He had Stephen Jackson on him most of the night, and S-Jax's shutdown prowess is not to be taken lightly.

But that doesn't justify limiting Kevin Durant to only 24 minutes of PT. I know Durant's young, but Seattle's going nowhere. What few fans are showing up don't care about seeing Damien Wilkins and Wally Szczerbiak.

Which is why, with all due respect, P.J. Carlesimo has no business trying to maximize his line-up, or play match-ups, or teach Durant a lesson. Keep the kid on the floor for forty minutes and let him jack up as many shorts as he wants. Carlesimo is a third-tier carousel-coach who isn't about to Jedi Master Durant, and the team's going to lose no matter what.

When the hyped rookie drops 35, or hits a game-winner, the Sonics matter. Otherwise, they're just a team gunning for the top pick next season.

Watch or Die: Explosions on the Screen



Lakers at Nuggets, 12/5: They played like a week ago. I fell asleep with the Nuggets up 20 and Allen Iverson darting through everything in sight. When I woke up, Denver had lost by more than that. Sometimes you just got to love those wild, woolly Nuggets. Also, Kobe has a track record of positively unloading on them, and that's always worth watching.

Jazz at Mavericks, 12/8: Now that's what I call a serious basketball game. Here's where I also officially begin my "is Josh Howard the best player on the Mavs?" watch.

Hawks at Magic, 12/10: Obviously the Magic win this, but it should be headless, soaring, and hilarious.

This Week's Great Moment in NBA Photography



Shane Battier feels the wrath of Dwyane Wade. I know this kind of thing comes with the territory of hard-nosed defender, but it's definitely about as unflattering as NBA photos get.