Pierce, Garnett, & the thrill of going all-in
It’s frustrating to watch outside parties casually rip on your team through the boilerplate parlance of Internet snark, but more frustrating when you suspect they might be right. Around the time the Brooklyn Nets were putting up a laughably deficient front against the broken, battered Chicago Bulls in the first round of the playoffs, I read dozens of Tweets and articles slamming the Nets for their lack of heart, their corny presentation, the corporate sheen they’d been given through their big budget relocation which, for all its photo ops and well-choreographed stadium soundtrack selection, led to a seven-game bummer of an exit to a team missing half its starters.
There wasn’t much to say about it, either. A billion dollars and a borough away from New Jersey, the Nets were capped out, coachless, and staring at a few years of the middle pending some magical improvement from its double digit salaries on the wrong side of 30, the grasping of some collective purpose for a team haphazardly slapped together so that the Barclays Center wouldn’t be broken in with a startting lineup of Johan Petro + Jordan Farmar + Sadness. They’d make the playoffs, sure, because this team had won 49 games and even looked fearsome at times when Deron Williams, Brook Lopez and Joe Johnson were simultaneously clicking—for the rare occasions it happened—but there was no way to say with a straight face that they’d be positioned to even sniff at a championship.