The B-Side: The Orlando Magic and a Regression in Inches

The B-Side is a recurring feature here at Bleacher Report that gives kudos to the unheralded: the brilliantly executed set that leads to a bland layup, the swarming coverage that causes a shot clock violation or even the phenomenal move that ends with a blown finish. Every night in the NBA is filled with plays that are noteworthy for a wide variety of reasons, and this space is set aside to enjoy the alternatives to the standard highlight—one clip at a time.

All things considered, the Orlando Magic are a reasonably effective basketball team. They boast one of the top players on the planet, hold the third seed in a competitive Eastern Conference and, for all of their limitations, still have some decent supporting pieces. 

Yet in one equally unfortunate and laughable play—clipped from Orlando's 103-93 win over Phoenix on Wednesday—a very specific, singular shortcoming swirls into the context of the struggles that have come to define Magic basketball this season:

This specific play didn't matter all that much in the grand scheme of the game's result, and it isn't really an epitomization of all that plagues Orlando. But in that difference of inches between a make (a true highlight) and a miss (the kind of clip fodder that populates this column) lies some truth about Orlando's situation; these Magic, troubled though they are, seem separated from the previous, successful incarnations of the team by only the most minute increments.

Howard's waffling effort (and waffling in general) early in the season didn't exactly help matters, but this is nonetheless a similar core to the teams which ranked as truly elite defenses over the last several years while incorporating familiar offensive elements. We may never know the specific straw that broke the camel's back, but between Rashard Lewis' regression and departure, Jason Richardson's regression, Brandon Bass' departure, Glen Davis' regression, Marcin Gortat's departure, Jameer Nelson's regression, Chris Duhon's arrival...

...Well, let's just say there are plenty of viable candidates.

Otis Smith never really made the one move that broke the Magic, but in totality he certainly pushed the limits of what Howard and Stan Van Gundy could prop up; it wasn't a delicate mix, per se—merely one that was tested far too often and rarely counterbalanced after a tip in the wrong direction. 

Then, with a slight shift here and a seemingly equal replacement there, the Magic gradually fell from their position in the league's elite and toppled down a slope that Smith himself had created. Even with Howard's two-way excellence and Van Gundy's diligence, the balance in Orlando could only withstand so much.

And so we're left with this year's Magic, who at times would seem to be enacting a tragedy but really aren't far removed from that contender we used to know. Much of what Orlando does is almost right but made painfully wrong by proximity; the Magic are an exceptionally frustrating team because of what we know they could (and did) become.

But by virtue of being a step slower, a bit less talented and just a few inches off, this once-viable basketball institution has devolved into something else entirely.