From time to time, in one of the camps he organizes for children in his native Australia, Patty Mills will be approached by one of his longtime fans with a request: Can you bury it for me?
For most NBA players, it would be a breeze. He would open a path, measure his steps and lead the ball over the edge with authority. He would land, and his admirers would celebrate, because they had just seen something immeasurably cool.
Davide Barco Illustration
Unfathomable is the right word for that too, because there is a problem with this scenario: Patty Mills doesn’t bury. Of all the choices he could make with the ball, sinking, he says, is not even a belated consideration. “I mean it’s at the bottom of the list, but to be honest, it’s probably not even on the list,” says Mills. About being unable to show off to children: “This is a bit of a daunting moment when I’m like, ‘Oh, I don’t think I can get there now, man,'” says Mills. “‘But I will continue to work on it.'”
Mills is among a handful of players in a select club: those with successful NBA careers who, for one reason or another, never jam. Since the 1996-97 season (the first data is available at Basketball-Reference.com) 1,801 different players have combined for 210,842 regular season dunks and 1,259 of 1,367 players (or 92%) who have played at least 1,000 minutes have played at least one dive turn.
That leaves 108 consistent contributors over 25 seasons, without at least one delicate two-handed slam – 11 of which are playing this season. The list ranges from MVPs (Steve Nash) to solid veterans (JJ Redick, TJ McConnell) and newsmen (Troy Daniels). Others, like Fred VanVleet, Ricky Rubio and DJ Augustin, played long enough to become the staples of the league. The members of this earthly club are divided into two groups: the vertically challenged and the perimeter players who must stay out of the painting. The 6 ‘1 “Mills, now in his 12th season, is fourth on the leaderboard for most games played between active players without dunk, is a member of both contingents and has resigned himself to a career without dunk.“ It’s an important part of the game and it’s what engages the fans and makes basketball basketball, “says Mills.” Putting a ball – sinking it – through a hoop, I haven’t tried in a long time. I hope, the less chance I have. ”
Steve Novak didn’t know what to do when he got the call. It was early 2012, close to the height of Linsanity in New York City, and his agent knew the NBA wanted him to participate in the dunk contest. Jeremy Lin was sleeping on teammate Landry Fields’ sofa at the time and, as Novak remembers, the plan was for Fields to bury himself in a Lin tied to a futon. When Fields had to withdraw due to injury, JR Smith was called in to take over the game. When Smith dropped out because of an ankle pain, the offer went to the next player on the list.
The NBA was eager to capitalize on the excitement surrounding Linsanity, and adding Novak, who had never sunk in five seasons as a professional, was just another wrinkle in the theater. For a player with a few million career earnings, the cash incentive ($ 20,000 just to participate) was not insignificant, and the potential spotlight could have done wonders for the Knicks striker. He had been lobbying the league to let him participate in the three-point contest, but they preferred Kevin Durant. At 6’10 “, no player as tall as Novak appeared in so many games without sinking. And he wasn’t about to risk becoming a meme at the All-Star weekend.
In theory, diving is what separates those who are blessed by the Basketball Gods and us, ordinary people tied to the ground. The average person can do 10,000 jumpers a week and eventually develop a decent stroke. And all you need to become a solid defender in your weekend race is a willingness to pay attention to your opponent and play hard. But most humans can try to lift their paintings towards the beams from now until the day they die and still never come close to diving.
Novak is quick to clear things up: he can bury. Or at least he could at one point. There is evidence somewhere on the internet, if you know where to look: snippets of flashy college jams and routine practice and pre-game slams. He even remembers his first dunk in the game. He was in eighth grade, beating his pre-teen peers with an impressive 6 ‘5 “. After watching Novak knock him down in practice, a coach approached him with an incentive. If the big, friendly giant could bury in a game, he “I would be rewarded with a $ 20 gift card for a local ice cream shop.” If I had no motivation before, “recalls Novak,” I would think, ‘This has to happen.’
Davide Barco Illustration
The dunk was a matter of a stolen hand on the counterattack. In his words, it was cruel. What he couldn’t know is that it would be one of the last.
Novak’s story is surprisingly common in a league that idolizes slam. Mills, McConnell and Daniels are among the countless players with stories about diving into low hoops on sidewalks and backyards as they grew up, imitating the exaggerations they saw on television. Dunking was one of the things that made them fall in love with the game. This never happened to them in the professionals.
As is the case with Novak, there is video evidence of Mills’ burial, and not just from the early years of his career. Before a home game against the Cavaliers in March 2017, Mills took a dead end with one hand before exclaiming to TNT’s microphones: “Ah, man, I should have saved it for the game!”
A quick YouTube search will show videos of McConnell winning the 76ers preseason dunk contest (a competition he says was forced) in 2016 and Daniels winning the honors of Play of the Game during a season with the then D League’s Rio Grande Valley Vipers in 2014 for a two-handed blow in a cut. So why were none of them able to bury in an NBA game?
To begin with, those who do not enter are on the ground to do other things. Like Novak, who made 43.0% of his three-point attempts, Mills (39.1%) and Daniels (39.5%) are accurate shooters outside the arc, and McConnell – who has an average of eight assists per 36 minutes of play – there is a tendency for cool passes. The contributions they can make when locating or finding an open teammate outweigh the fascination of a prominent dunk.
Another answer is fear. Novak recalls two real chances of making his first NBA dunk. The first came at the beginning of his career with the Clippers, when he “came up with an old tire” and resorted to a finger roller. The other occurred when he played for the Knicks against the Bucks and was alone on the counterattack. He prepared and decided that this was his moment.
“It only took me a little too long to get to the edge and Larry Sanders, who was at Bucks at the time, was following me like a bat out of hell,” says Novak. “And it kind of scared me, so I hurried and, instead of getting my steps right, I kind of rolled this one too.”
The threat of being embarrassed in the ring weighs on McConnell, now with the Pacers too. “Having 6 ‘1,” there are a lot of players who look like rim protectors to me, “says McConnell.” If I see someone – no matter who it is – within attack range, I’m not trying to dunk. “
In addition, diving presents health risks. Daniels, who currently has no contract after seven seasons with the same number of teams, says that despite having 6 ‘4 “and having a decent jumping ability, the high chances of getting hurt in a dunk are what pushes him to layups If he landed awkwardly and sprained his ankle, his career could be put at risk.
“I rarely bury when I train,” Daniels says. “It becomes second nature for me to try to shoot a tray or a floater. Obviously, the guys are much bigger in the NBA – much stronger. Your chances of sinking are almost nil and of getting hurt a lot. . . . I don’t want to try to do something I don’t know well and end up hurting myself. “
Gone are the days when coaches told Novak that picking up a three, instead of fighting at home, was “solving” But Novak is an outlier even in this group: he just never tried to dunk in his 11th career. years, he tried only 16 layups. He was a four stretch before most four stretches were used correctly, and 78% of his field goal attempts in his career came from outside the arc.
At first, the coaches were unable to unlock it. He was a striker who didn’t like to hit the paint and would probably never become a glass eater. It wasn’t until Rick Adelman was hired to lead the Rockets before the second season of Novak that things started to click. Later, when he played for Mike D’Antoni in New York, his skills as a sniper became a feature of the Knicks’ attack.
“He was saying to me, ‘Hey, Steve, I know the guy you’re protecting may be able to hit you. I’m fine with that. I’m not well if he scores more than you ‘, ”says Novak. “And it’s like, wow. It makes a lot of sense to me. If I do three and he does two, we are right here. “
Just because some players choose to play below the edge, it doesn’t mean that they don’t watch in awe when teammates or opponents fly over it. McConnell remembers being amazed to see his former 76ers teammates, Richaun Holmes and Nerlens Noel, throw the ball in Philadelphia. Daniels quotes Vince Carter and Derrick Jones Jr., who, despite having calves that Daniels says “look [pencils]”- won the 2020 dunk contest, as his favorites. Mills has also played alongside many high flying players, but he appreciates dunkers of all kinds. At the end of Manu Ginóbili’s career, the Argentine wing and some Spurs teammates held a competition. Ginóbili, Boris Diaw and Tiago Splitter struggled to see who would end each year with more dunks. After hearing about the friendly bet, Mills made sure he was involved.
“I would never get one, but I ended up being the referee and deciding what qualifies as a dunk for the other guys,” says Mills. “It was at the end of the three careers. A dunk for them at any point was like a big dunk. “
Splitter, who is 1.98m tall and weighed 110 kilos during his career, won every year, but at various times of each season, Diaw and Ginóbili took the lead. The only thing certain was Mills and his goose egg. The countless layups were very different from his first teenage dunk, when he postered an opponent with such violence that he was in shock while his cousin – a teammate – screamed and jumped around him. The moment seemed rare, even then. Still, he doesn’t feel like he’s lost anything, other than perhaps some street credibility among his younger fans.
McConnell did not fully calculate his chances of sinking before retiring, although he does not think it is likely. He prefers to be on the other side of a dead end. “Maybe once before my career is over, if I get a quick rest, maybe I can get Myles [Turner] to get up and bury. You know, when I’m 33 or 34, ”says McConnell. “There would have to be no one crossing the half court and effortlessly from the other team where I could do something.”
Davide Barco Illustration
As for Novak, he has no regrets about ending his career without burying or refusing the invitation to the dunk contest. He still watches every year and laughs at the thought that he was once invited to participate. “I think, Santo, I made the right decision,” says Novak. “I would have to somehow find a way to get the three-meter frame and a mini sofa.”