Nashty As He Wanna Be

I covered a preseason NBA game recently between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Phoenix Suns. As a reporter, I was working. As a fan, I was entertained. As a student of the game, I was in awe. It’s all thanks to a soccer-loving Canadian, who is no taller than me. (Well, maybe he’s got me by an inch.) He showed me the way. He got me to believe.

By now, the entire world knows about Steve Nash. How could it not? Only nine guys in the history of the league have ever won back-to-back MVP Awards, and that laundry list reads like a debate on the greatest player ever to pick up a round ball: Russell, Chamberlain, Abdul-Jabbar, Magic Johnson, Bird, Jordan.

But that’s what Nash has done. In a league now dominated by 7-footers who can stroke like shooting guards, 6-8 power forwards with more handle than a suitcase factory, and jet quick point guards who are unguardable, he has been named the Association’s most valuable player twice.

There has been rampant criticism with both of Nash’s wins. He took home his first trophy after the 2004-2005 season, edging out Miami’s Shaquille O’Neal. Many speculated that the reason Nash won was because he is a white guy succeeding in a sport dominated by black guys. (Note: Some may call the PC police and insist that I refer to black people as African-Americans. It’s almost 2007. If you can’t handle people being characterized as black or white, there’s really no hope for you.) Whether this is true or not, I can’t comment on. Nash took a team that missed the playoffs and led them to a league-best 62 wins. White, black, blue, green or purple, that fact alone warrants consideration.

His win last year sparked even more debate. Two seasons ago, he and O’Neal were the only viable candidates. Last year, Nash was selected over Lebron James, Dirk Nowitzki, Kobe Bryant and Chauncey Billups. Arguments were easily made for each one of those players, yet Nash won by a sizeable margin.

I admit, I didn’t think Nash deserved to take home the MVP last season. Phoenix was an established team and the contributions of newcomer Raja Bell and Tim Thomas, and the emergence of Boris Diaw had as much to do with their success as the play of their esteemed floor general.

But flash forward to two weeks ago, when as I sat courtside witnessing a meaningless exhibition game. I discovered something that I had taken for granted. Steve Nash is maybe the most fundamentally sound basketball player that I have ever seen. You see, when you are that close to professional athletes, you get a real sense of how big these guys are. Seeing Nash, who at 6-0 is often the smallest player on the court, dart in and out of the defense, working to create high percentage opportunities for his teammates, you appreciate how good he actually is. He is in complete control of his body at all times and there is no wasted movement. There is purpose in every dribble, every fake, every drive, every pass, every hesitation. It’s remarkable to witness when seen up close.

He’s deceptively quick, and if there’s a spot he wants to get to, he’ll beat you there nine times out of 10. Eyes always up, he anticipates where both teammates and defenders are going to be, and reacting accordingly.

Let’s face it, Steve Nash isn’t the best player in the league. According to some, he might not even be in the top 10. But if you are a fan of the game, you can’t not appreciate what he brings every night. The ebb and flow of the game is in the palm of his hand. When the Suns need to run, they run. When they need to slow it down, he’s a wizard with the pick and roll. He’s the NBA’s ultimate puppet master, pulling the strings of his counterparts with ease.

In this era of fast break alley oops, shots swatted into the fifth row and mid-40s shooting percentages, take a moment to watch the art that Steve Nash can create with a basketball in his hand. It’s not sexy. It’s not gangsta. But once you see it (and you’ll know what it is), all your doubts will be quelled, your criticism will melt away, and you’ll know. You’ll believe.