O.J. Mayo: Point Guards Are Born, Not Made

Every frickin’ year leading up to the NBA Draft, I hear about some shooting guard’s prospects as a point guard at the pro level.  Usually it’s because that shooting guard is somehow flawed from an NBA perspective and is ill-suited to play the 2-guard position.

And every frickin’ year when I hear this chatter, I just grumble because it’s an experiment likely doomed to fail.

More than any other position in basketball, the point guard is distinctive.  It’s not just a matter of possessing the requisite skillset.  It goes beyond ballhandling and passing ability. 

Natural-born playmakers possess an uncanny feel for the game, otherworldly court vision, and an inherent desire and instinct to facilitate a team’s offense and involve teammates.

To say that point guards are born, not made—is not truly correct.  But I would argue that the best point guards are not made, they naturally evolve.  Steve Nash, Chris Paul, Jason Kidd, and Magic Johnson are all different, yet they are somehow cut from the same cloth. 

They are driven to share the rock with teammates.  They derive greater pleasure from dropping a dime, then scoring a bucket themselves.

This is a foreign concept to scorers.  Thus, shooting guards are cut from a different mold and they operate with a different mentality.

So when people, even NBA executives, start dabbling with the notion that a guy who hasn’t played the point since he was the primary ballhandler in middle school or early high school—this simply because he was the best player on his team—will suddenly and miraculously transition to the point as a pro is ludicrous and downright stupid.

When hospitals evaluate medical school graduates and seek to fill a brain surgeon vacancy, do they consider heart specialists because they also have a steady hand and deal with a major organ?

Of course not.  A brain surgeon and a heart surgeon may share a lot in common, but their function is intrinsically different.  In the same way, point guards and shooting guards are backcourt mates, but they are a different breed.

So the discussion that sent me off the deep end this year was the noise about rookie O.J. Mayo playing the point alongside Dwyane Wade.

Personally, my annoyance isn’t particularly directed at Mayo.  Frankly, I haven’t watched him play enough to conclude beyond a reasonable doubt that he isn’t going to succeed at the point as a pro.  In general, my argument is aimed at past failed dalliances.  But I’ll use Mayo as my case in point since he is currently relevant.

Apparently, O.J. Mayo claims he can and wants to play point guard in the NBA.

Wow! 

If we relied on the self-proclamations of players, we’d have a thousand stiffs who are the “next Michael Jordan.”  Kwame Brown laughingly stated that he would play like a “beast” again following his trade from the Washington Wizards to the Los Angeles Lakers in the summer of 2005.  That’s hilarious!

So let’s look at the facts.  Mayo finished his acclaimed prep career as a dominant shooting guard.  Again last year as a frosh phenom at USC, Mayo played the 2.

I won’t even consider his high school stats.  Someone of Mayo’s caliber is so overwhelmingly superior to his high school competition that his stats are inflated and potentially misleading.

The USC Trojans didn’t have a standout point guard this past season, yet Mayo didn’t take that lead role on a full-time basis.  Yes, he led the Trojans with 3.3 assists per game, but that’s like a leading scorer averaging less than 10 points a game.  WEAK!

According to DraftExpress.com, “For those wondering where self-proclaimed point guard Mayo would rank on the point guard’s list, his 3.6 assists per-40p would put him dead last by a decent margin.”

(By the way, I stumbled upon DraftExpress.com and won’t vouch for their reputation—but I will happily use their data to augment my argument.)

When you consider that Mayo averaged 3.5 turnovers per game (more turnovers than assists!), he’s got a hideous assist-to-turnover ratio of 0.93.  By comparison, the best ratio in the NBA this past season was 5.38 by Jose Calderon of the Toronto Raptors.  I tried to find the worst ratio for point guards, but I couldn’t locate that listing.  It’s safe to say that Mayo would be at the bottom of the barrel.

Thanks, O.J.!  You just saved me the labor of an exhaustive statistical and analytical breakdown of your flawed candidacy as a competent NBA point guard.

From what I’ve personally seen, he’s a talented combo guard.  Clearly he can score and he makes some fancy, head-turning, highlight-worthy dishes.  But so did Chris Webber and a lot of other NBA guys who never were confused with point guard material.

Even if Mayo makes a relatively successful transition to the point, I don’t think that necessarily bodes well for the Memphis Grizzlies or whoever ultimately secures his professional services.  Teams who are led by crossover or hybrid point guards usually fall short of championship glory.

Allen Iverson is the best pseudo-point-guard of the current era, and his teams struggled because Iverson dominated the rock too much.  Even though he managed very good assist numbers, his team’s offense bogged down because he shot the rock even more than he passed, and teammates tended to stand around and watch.

Look also at Steve Francis, another guy who convinced NBA execs that he could and should play the point.  He was a fantasy stud, but he just dribbled way too much for nothing.  By comparison, Nash and Paul dribble with purposeful intent to set up a score or playmaking opportunity.  Francis dribbled for the sake of demonstrating his ballhandling ability and contemplating rather mechanically what to do next.

If I were a GM, I’d stay away from wanna-be point guards.  Ultimately they get outshined by the naturals and the wanna-be’s team falls short.

That’s why I am so conflicted as a Washington Wizards fan.  Gilbert Arenas is a dazzling player—when healthy.  I enjoy watching him play.  But coach Eddie Jordan’s motion offense stagnates a bit when Gil runs the point, because he’s one of those dreaded shoot-first, pass-second combo guards who dominates the ball too much.

There’s been a lot of chatter that the Wizards are actually better off without him.  I’m not in that camp, but I do agree that the offense sometimes flows better without Arenas.

Getting back to the argument at hand, it’s truly puzzling to me why experienced NBA execs and talent evaluators repeatedly experiment with would-be point guards.  But then again, every year teams take risks on raw, athletic big men hoping to hit the jackpot. 

More often than not, we’re talking about crash-and-burn.  I guess that’s another reason why “lottery pick” is so appropriate.  Your odds of winning aren’t good.

Good luck, Memphis Grizzlies, Seattle Sonics, and Portland Trail Blazers.  Each of you invested in an extremely talented combo guard with a lottery pick.  Mayo, Russell Westbrook, and Jerryd Bayless are all freakish athletes, so they all can resort to playing the 2.

Let’s see how successful each is at the point.  I’m guessing Westbrook has the best shot of succeeding as a true point guard.  And I think Mayo is the worst fit.  Having been selected third and fourth overall, they represent the greatest risk.

As the eleventh overall pick, Bayless was a relative steal.  At worst, he can provide spot duty at the point and spend the majority of his time as an undersized, but explosive 2-guard.

When it comes to sandwiches, I usually pass on the mayo.  As a point guard, I pass on Mayo, too.