Beckley Mason, the editor of ESPN’s beautiful HoopSpeak blog, wrote in a lengthy email response to Ryan’s original article. Mason was kind enough to let us use his words for a post. You’ll enjoy this.
I agree with your argument that otherness is a major factor who we regard as “soft.” What’s funny is that Kevin Garnett has one of the most jump-shot oriented games of any seven-footer ever and yet he obviously avoids this stigma by yelling and winning.
The thing I find most troubling about the soft tag, and this is something I assume you mean when you talk about “otherness,” is that you can’t be sometimes soft.
Pau won L.A. the 2010 title by kicking Perkins’ and Garnett’s asses. He literally dominated the “toughest” front line in basketball, mauling his way to 19 boards in Game 7. Physically he was stronger, mentally he was ferocious. Now, this year he doesn’t play with that aggressiveness, and it’s that “Pau is soft,” not that he is “playing soft.” The obvious distinction is that one phrasing suggests momentary failure, the other an inherent flaw. L.A. has two titles because Pau was twice the best, baddest big man in the Finals. He played poorly and seemed to be, for whatever reason, somewhat disengaged emotionally/mentally this year.
That’s it, that’s all.
Bosh and Dirk are interesting examples. I actually do think Bosh can be a bit soft, though he is learning to be mentally tougher. He’s a different dude than your typical NBAer, a sensitive, contemplative guy and—from what I’ve read, who I’ve talked to, what I’ve seen from him in person in the locker room—he was overwhelmed by the irrational vitriol and scrutiny that he met in Miami. Bosh has become a profoundly more effective and aggressive defender, but as he admitted after Game 3 in Boston, the intensity of the situation can sometimes get the best of him.
Because he’s almost seven feet and should be a mindless thug (so the thinking goes), this is reprehensible. His hyper-skilled playing style reinforces a perceived lack of heart rather than simply being the natural extension of his inherent physical abilities.
Dirk used to have similar perception problems, but it’s often hard to distinguish between technical skills and mental toughness. He’s has added some nice nuances to his face-up game and how he fights for post position that are inseparable from the impression that he’s a guy who can get whatever he wants on the court through the power of his will. When Bosh gets pushed off his spot, is it because he hasn’t developed some of the tricks that Dirk has, or is it because he’s not tough enough to hold his ground?
Nowitzki keeps coming and coming, working through his vast arsenal to find what works. Bosh, who is significantly narrower through the shoulders and is shorter than Dirk, has a tendency to let himself be discouraged by physical play. It’s rough tactics that give him trouble because he’s skinny and relies on skill and quickness to be effective. If he was a big lumbering brute and super long and quick players gave him trouble, and pressured him to stop seeking his shots, would he be considered soft?
Probably not, and that’s a problem for me.
I agree wholeheartedly that “soft” is a term that’s been loaded up with lots of troubling meaning. But, there’s not a doubt in my mind that a form of softness exists. Of course I don’t see it as the all-encompassing, first line of your obituary, character defining word that many brave sportswriters take it to mean.
That’s because players have soft seasons, soft series, soft games, soft plays all the time. Then they bounce back and play tougher, more focused ball.
Basketball isn’t a war, but the NBA playoff basketball sure is an unmatched hothouse of competition. To me “soft” plays happen when a player yields an emotional and psychological advantage by failing to go on competing at his most intense level when things aren’t going his way. In that frame, Bynum’s cheap shot on Barea becomes one of the softest plays of the playoffs. He was broken, mentally and emotionally by the sweet-shooting Mavs, and retaliated. It looks mean, gritty even, but that sort of retaliation isn’t much different than “running away” when you get right down to it.
But no one is going to call Bynum soft—for all the damning freight carried by the word, it won’t bear a hard foul. So it’s best to use other words that don’t emasculate, or communicate the sense of permanence that dubbing someone “soft” does today.
Now Andrea Barngani, he’s irreparably soft. His name is Andrea, for Chrissakes!
—Photo AP
Good article, but I can’t let the Gasol thing go without saying the obvious:
Yes Gasol dominated Garnett last year. But Garnett was injured. He had no lift and his game was awful. Look at KG this year compared to last year and it’s apples and fire hydrants. And let’s not forget Perkins got hurt in Game 6 and didn’t even play in the crucial Game 7. It’s important to consider that when talking about Gasol’s performance last year.
“Because he’s almost seven feet and should be a mindless thug (so the thinking goes), this is reprehensible.”
This is bizarre and out of place in an otherwise decent article. The theoretical characterization of the opposite of softness as someone who is a “mindless thug” seems equally ‘problematic’.