Phoenix Suns are Classic Example of Nice Guys Finishing Last
Nice guys in every venue of life have been told they don't really finish last. Believers in the benign swear that overall goodness is rewarded by some higher design.
Ron Artest distracts and annoys both in word and deed. Phil Jackson taunts his opponents through thinly veiled comments to the media. Kobe Bryant maintains his alienating aloofness.
Meanwhile, Grant Hill wins the NBA Sportsmanship Award. Steve Nash remains the most outgoing and likeable guy in the league. Jared Dudley, a bench guy, amasses followers on his Twitter account thanks to his sense of humor and ingenuity.
Yet it's the Lakers, not the endearing and charismatic Suns, who are competing for an NBA championship. Can we get a 20 on Karma, please?
The truth is, nice guys do finish last in sports. How else do you explain Sasha Vujacic still playing instead of Goran Dragic? The mean, dirty, unlikeable guys win. It's that simple.
The clincher on this theory? The closing seconds of Game 5. There are 3.5 seconds left, game tied, and the Lakers have the ball. Mercifully, miraculously (or so it seemed at the time), Kobe Bryant airballs a potential game-winner. Are the karma and basketball gods finally smiling on the Valley of the Suns? Of course not. Ron Artest, a guy universally loathed and detested (and who makes his own fans feel at least uneasy), rebounds the airball and throws up the ugliest game-winner in the history of basketball.
You see Artest and his equally controversial teammate, Kobe Bryant, hugging and celebrating. Meanwhile Nash, the consummate good guy who has never emitted the least bit of egoism, is openly and emotionally upset. Ditto for Grant Hill. If nice guys do in fact finish first, if "what goes around comes around," this kind of stuff does not happen.
Think about it. When was the last time an overall good (character-wise) team won the title?
- The Lakers (2000-02, 2008)...'nuff said.
- The Celtics (2008) might have been likeable if it weren't for Paul Pierce's Oscar-worthy, writhing-in-pain to winning-the-game miracle recovery from knee injury. Seriously, any guy who milks the drama, concern and spotlight like that should immediately merit complete dislike and distrust.
- The Spurs ('99, '03, '05 and '07) were a campaign of flopping actors led by Duncan's deer-in-the-headlight eyes and Ginobili's soccer-influenced who...me?! routine. Oh, and don't forget Cheap Shot Bob and Bruce Bowen.
- The Heat ('06) come the closest to no-real-jerk-on-the-team status, but Gary Payton and Antoine Walker on the same team help to not completely dispel the theory.
- The Pistons ('04) had Rasheed "T-me-up" Wallace.
I could keep going to the 90s. The Bulls had Rodman. The Rockets had Mario Elie. The Pistons were nicknamed the Bad Boys, for cripes' sake. On and on, the winners sport at least one genuine jerk, a guy who's willing to sacrifice everything, including a squeaky-clean image, for a championship.
The Suns have never had a guy like that. Management has played a big part in that. Character has always come before contention, and as much as Phoenix clings to its untainted image, that's exactly why they have a ring-less one as well.
Charles Barkley? Raja Bell? Hot Rod Williams? Danny Ainge? Maybe you got the vibe those were guys trying to be dirty, but it just wasn't natural. Even Barkley, for all his "I'd have knocked him on his a--" talk, wasn't tough enough compared to Jordan, but that's just the luck of anyone else who played in the 90s.
It's not like the Suns never had a chance to remedy this issue, either. They just never wanted to get their hands dirty. Robert Horry was unacceptable here, and went on to win seven championships. Sam Cassell—similar story.
Honestly, Stoudemire's rookie year was the most encouraging sign for Phoenix's Dirty Department. He came in with an attitude, a here-earlier-than-I-should-be swagger that translated to poster dunks and edgy rebounding. He surprised opponents, teams who have labeled the Suns a soft team for generations of players. He was a wake-up call.
But that was it. He got complacent, let the success and his burgeoning offense steal his attention, his focus, his edge. After his rookie year, you never thought Stoudemire would turn out soft, but that's exactly what's happened.
The Suns cater to their suburb and Sun City fans, but sooner or later they'll realize they need a punk to win what's eluded them for 52 years and counting—a championship.
If our envied enemies have proven anything, it's that a city can live with a pill when you've got a championship to help swallow it down.
Originally posted by the author on Fanster.com
