Monta Ellis: The Great Misunderstanding

Monta Ellis is a 6'3" scoring guard in the NBA. And for this, we can never forgive him.

Baseball has its pitchers' duels, and football lionizes defensive juggernauts like the 2000 Ravens. Basketball, though, always needs scoring for anyone to care much about it. Slow-down slugfests make for good copy, but no one really wants to watch them. And—this is the dirty little secret of it all—basketball's fluid, up-and-down rhythms allow for outstanding defensive plays and maximal offense to occupy the same 48-minute stretch.

It's not an either/or proposition. In fact, a well-rounded basketball game is really the only kind worth watching. What's more, without the constant threat of scoring, a defensive stand only counts for so much.

Scorers, though, have fallen out of favor. Blame Allen Iverson, who saw each possession as a personal challenge. That approach could be challenging for viewers, too, so as breathtaking as AI could be, his constant uphill battle became the model for all that was wrong with basketball. Carmelo Anthony has as advanced an offensive arsenal as anyone in the league, but that "scorer" label makes it impossible to agree on his true value. Scorers like Anthony are at once overrated and underrated, sometimes in the same sentence. Someone has to do it, but doing it well comes at a cost.

Ellis is, for these purposes, the worst—or most pure—kind of scorer. Phenomenally quick, slippery, and coordinated even in mid-air, he's not just getting points for a sub-par Warriors team because someone has to. His mid-range jumper, which Ellis can hit from almost any angle, is arguably the most reliable in the league. Monta once relied largely on speed and athleticism; now he glides to the basket, weaving through defenders and changing direction without friction. Derrick Rose has earned plaudits for his contortions at the rim, but Ellis pulls off similar moves without Rose’s sheer mass. And while he’ll never be a sharpshooter, Monta has improved from the three-point line, or at least his judgment has. His game has grown more varied and deliberate as he’s matured, and there’s little question that he’s done some growing up off the court, as well.

Ellis puts the ball in the basket. This alone won't make a bad team good, or a good team great, but it's hard to discount the role it plays in winning basketball games. Contrary to popular belief, is not a hopeless ball hog, but he’s no playmaker, either. Even if he has improved as a passer, and doesn’t come across as always going for his, he’s rarely shown much aptitude at keeping an offense in order. On defense, he will get eaten alive by bigger guards until he retires. Yet somehow, these deficiencies, and his lack of a clear-cut position, have made him a scapegoat. He's not just holding the Warriors back—he's everything that can still go wrong with NBA players.

The Warriors have, supposedly, found their antidote to Ellis is Stephen Curry, the clean-cut lottery pick who after two seasons, is looking like a true point guard with pristine range and the ability to penetrate. Curry fits in; he’s one of those essential building blocks that championship teams are made of. No one looks for a scorer like Ellis in that way, even if he’s been responsible for more big plays than Curry. That’s a shortcut, a stopgap. Usually, when the ideal situation for Monta comes up, it involves coming off of the bench for the Celtics or some other fully-stocked juggernaut. As if there were little difference between him and Nate Robinson.

Monta Ellis could have, at some point, learned to be more of a point guard, or at least tried. Curry was able to make this transition as a pro, while in Ellis' case, it appeared to be too late by the time he entered the NBA. More damning: Curry had three years at Davidson, while Ellis came to the NBA straight out of Lanier High School in Jackson, Mississippi. Curry, with his NBA father and clear eye toward the future, has always understood the need to adapt. Ellis, coming out of an area not exactly known for its basketball talent, and aggressively trying to make a name for himself in camps and among scouts passing through, turned into a supernova scorer because he could. His team was a powerhouse even with Ellis carrying the lion’s share of the burden on offense. And yet dropping 72 points on Greenwood High in 2005, the same name Parade dubbed co-player of the year along with Greg Oden, speaks to more than simply needing the team’s star to score the most.

Certainly, the success of the Nuggets without Carmelo Anthony suggests that scorers are indeed replaceable, as long as the points come from elsewhere. After all, their net worth/value is a concentrated bundle of offense. But Monta Ellis is more than just the sum of his statistical parts. Like Anthony, or Kevin Durant, his presence alone guarantees a strategic shift, one that a team like the Warriors should be able to use to its advantage. Ellis vs. Curry debates will go on whether or not the league does, and Curry will ultimately win every time. But short of landing an All-Star big man in return for Ellis, can the Warriors really afford to part with him? Monta Ellis may not be perfect, but accepting what he is and going from there is not such a bad way for a team to rebuild for the twentieth time. It certainly beats dumping him, on seemingly moralistic grounds, and then hoping to be rewarded for it.

A team shouldn’t think of itself as settling for Monta Ellis, or treading water, as long as he’s a major part of its future. Maybe Ellis isn’t a franchise player or the centerpiece of a title team. Or maybe teams stuck in the lottery need to stop thinking of their future in terms of absolute boom or bust.