The Tully Corcoran Dunk Corollary

What I am about to write might sound obvious to the point of being idiotic. I won’t blame you if that’s how you feel about it, because I have to admit that sometimes when I articulate the Tully Corcoran Dunk Corollary in my head, I feel the same thing.

But I believe this is one of those rare ideas that is both (1) totally obvious and (2) completely obscure, and I hope that by the time I am done, you will agree with me.

So here it is:

I need to start by telling you the context in which the Dunk Corollary was conceived. It was the 2008-09 basketball season, and I was covering Kansas. This was the year after the Jayhawks had won the national championship, and I’m sure you’ll recall that the KU team that won it all did a lot of dunking. I would say that right up until Mario Chalmers made that shot, dunking was that team’s most definitive characteristic. The power forward was Darrell Arthur, who never got excited about talking about anything, unless you asked him about dunking. Then, man, it was on. He loved it. At some point I think Brady McCollough even called his mom, who told Brady how excited Darrell had been the day he got his first dunk.

But KU also started Darnell Jackson on the block, and he could really dunk too. He dunked hard, and he would beat his chest after his dunks. Off the bench came a Russian with some kind of alloy where his body fat should have been named Sasha Kaun, whose best skill was post defense, but whose passion was dunking on fools.  Deep on the bench was 6-foot-11 Cole Aldrich, who sounded like an ewok when he dunked.

There were a lot of alley oops and a lot of tip dunks in 2008. This was KU’s Sweet 16 game:

That was an exceptional game as far as dunking went, but that was that team. Those guys did that sort of thing all the time, and their ability to finish plays with dunks just seemed to solve so many problems.

So the next year all those guys were gone, and in their place was a team that played decidedly below the rim. Instead of Arthur and Jackson, it was twins Marcus and Markieff Morris. One of them once said he didn’t like dunking because it took up too much energy. It was harder for that team to score around the rim. It ended up relying very much on its perimeter game, and that worked, because that team’s point guard was Sherron Collins, and he had a great year. That team won the Big 12 championship, but that team made scoring look … harder. It took more work. You couldn’t just toss the ball up in the air to anyone. Missed shots that might have been dunked home the year before got grabbed, hauled in, brought to the ground, gathered, and taken up again.

Now, the Twins would become much better athletes over the next two years, and they were more versatile offensive players than Jackson and Arthur. KU just became a different kind of team.

But in November of that 2008-09 season, I sat there during a game and thought, “You know, one of the problems with this team is that it doesn’t have anybody that can dunk.”

You need guys who can dunk, because dunking is hard, which makes things easy.

When I say “can dunk,” I don’t mean, “Can run out there in an empty gym, take a running start, and put down a dunk.” Almost everybody on every college basketball team can do that.

I am talking about guys who can make a play by dunking. Guys who can find themselves in the midst of a play that is in doubt, and then remove all that doubt by dunking.

There is a play that illustrates this perfectly. I’m sure any KU fan will remember it. It happened during KU’s game against Purdue in the NCAA Tournament this year. It was an ugly, struggle of a game. Kansas was down the whole time. There had been no flow. It seemed every KU shot had been hotly contested. Purdue had played phenomenally on defense.

The Jayhawks were down by three with just about a minute left, and KU got a little bit of a break going off a rebound. Not a great break, though. It was really a 2-on-2 break, but Tyshawn Taylor, the point guard, got behind Purdue by just a step. And Elijah Johnson put the ball in the air.

The ability to finish that play with a dunk made all the difference. Taylor could dunk it, Johnson knew Taylor could dunk it, and dunking it was the only play Purdue wouldn’t have been able to guard in that moment.

The play was in doubt, but the dunk removed the doubt.

And if you can do that, you’ve got something. If Taylor hadn’t been a dunker, there’s a good chance Kansas loses that game, which was in the second round. Instead, Taylor sealed the game with another dunk, and KU went all the way to the national championship game, where it lost to the dunkiest team in college basketball.

So what I’m saying is, it’s really helpful if your players can dunk. And that seems obvious doesn’t it? Or does it?


The Mario Chalmers rap video is 40 percent of what I expected

I have just learned that Mario Chalmers has recently released a music video of some sort. I am overcome with emotion. On the one hand, I am surprised, because I had no idea Mario Chalmers had any musical ambitions or talent. On the other, I am not surprised this did not stop Mario Chalmers from creating a music video and releasing it to the public.

I say all this having not yet watched the video. I will here in a second, but I wanted to get my raw emotions down on the screen before I did. I assume this video is going to depict Mario as being extremely suave. I believe this is how Mario sees himself and would like to be perceived by others. This is not going to be the Allen Iverson rap posture, all hardcore and aggressive. It’s going to be a lot more like Deion Sanders is “Must be the Money.” I will be 68 percent surprised if at any point in the video we see Mario without his sunglasses on.

I am also aware Grantland has written something about this video. I consciously chose not to read that before watching it, or writing this post. I want my perceptions of this thing to be unmolested.

And away we go.

Well, Mario has stoicism down. I mean, he’s got that down pat. In the opening seconds of that video, his face looks exactly the way it looked every time he was talking to the media – like he can’t wait for this to end.

Uh … I don’t think that’s his voice, guys. I certainly could be wrong, but that doesn’t sound like Mario Chalmers’ speaking voice at all. If I’m right about this, it means that someone other than Mario Chalmers wrote and performed a rap song about Mario Chalmers, which makes me feel … confused.

This is Mario Chalmers’ speaking voice:

The lyrics are probably not worth discussing, especially because I have my doubts Chalmers is the one rapping them and also because 99 percent of rap lyrics are meaningless regurgitations of the same old BS. That’s the really amazing thing about the genre. There are creative people within it, but for some reason nobody tries to imitate those people. Most bad rappers are imitating other bad rappers. The genre has a serious self-awareness problem.

My initial assumptions were about 40 percent correct. I overestimated the creative ambitions of this video (and my estimations were not high). I thought the video would be slightly more abstract than Mario dribbling a basketball in dress clothes, even though I do have to admit this is something I have never seen before. I have seen Mario dribble a basketball, and I have seen him in dress clothing, but never have I seen those two Marios in conjunction.

I also was wrong about the sunglasses.

The secret reason basketball is not popular in the south

Today is the beginning of college basketball season, but it does not feel like it to me. By this I don’t mean that my own personal psyche is not quite prepared for the sport to begin, or that I have lost ties with the sport emotionally. I mean that I just stepped outside to walk my dog, and now I’m sweating. By noon, I will have turned on the air conditioner.

And I wonder if this isn’t secretly the reason basketball is not popular in the south.

As you know, I live on the Gulf Coast, as a great many “southerners”* do. Relative to the weather I grew up with in Kansas, it still feels like it should be the nonconference portion of football season. It’s still, you know, muggy out there. It feels like summer is still kind of hanging around. If I were to drop the exact weather I am experiencing on Kansas right now, some people would reflexively pull the boat out of storage.

*I put that in quotes because I don’t consider myself a southerner, and even though I am technically a Texan now, the term “The South” is kind of ambiguous when it comes to the state of Texas. For purposes of discussing weather, however, Houston is TOTALLY southern. So that’s what I’ll be meaning when I use this terminology throughout this post. 

I know that, on me, this has a discombobulating effect. In part this is because it is still somewhat unfamiliar. It still feels strange that I could, without total discomfort, jump in a pool on the same day big guys jump center for the first time. But I wonder if this has something to do with the southern sports psyche altogether.

Basketball, of course, was invented by a Canadian who was living in Massachusetts and later taught in Kansas. The whole point of it was to be something that could be played indoors during the winter. And it really became part of the DNA in places where that was important. Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, etc.

I don’t mean to oversimplify this. There are hundreds of other factors that influence where certain sports become popular. Football was huge in Nebraska, basketball in Kansas. The early years of both college football and college basketball were dominated by teams in the upper midwest and northeast. I am not trying to explain American sports culture by using barometric pressure, although I’m sure there’s a sabermetrician out there who will be happy to try.

I am really just saying that in the midwest, in Kansas, you can feel basketball season coming. You can feel it with your skin.  And this adds to the anticipation of it. There is something about walking in from the dark and the gray and the cold — shoulders bunched together, face tucked down into your chest to get away from the sharp wind — and into a hot gym, where you scoot your feet across a mat to knock off the snow and it smells like popcorn and a brass band is blowing “Carry On Wayward Son” with full lungs and pattering hearts and tiny girls in short skirts are being thrown into the air and your eyes take a minute to adjust to all the light.

At the risk of coming off as maudlin, I write that it feels a little bit like coming home for Christmas. Well, that’s how coming home for Christmas feels in the Midwest anyway.

It doesn’t feel like that on the Gulf Coast. Here, it still feels like football season is just getting started. And it will feel that way until football season is over. On the Gulf Coast, the winters are not something to escape. It’s where birds hang out in November.

So basketball doesn’t seem as necessary here. But it is still in my DNA.