My Dinner with Shawn

I have been trying to think of stories to write, but finding subject matter in the apocalyptic wasteland that is the beginning of the offseason can be like searching for water in the Sonoran desert in July when all the cactuses (28 years in Arizona, and I still don't know if it's "cacti") are on fire. Suns articles are sparse.

Times like these, I find myself allowing my imagination to wander. Keep in mind the vastness of that imagination. It is one that has successfully envisioned the entire universe in one shot. Reality is determined, but fantasy's options are infinite.

I have such complex ideas and the memory to retain them that I have, in my head, an entire science fiction miniseries complete with detailed descriptions of faster than light travel and the engines with which the feat is possible. I have technology, worlds, conflict, multiple story lines, and back story on every character, and there are thirteen so far.

One cannot rightfully accuse me of myopic thinking.

The lack of information to write about has left my imagination to ponder what has been said behind the locked glass doors at U.S. Airways Center. I think about what it would be like to have a position that allows me to speak to the players and interested parties face to face. I've let my mind wander to the point that I have a story about an amateur blogger working his talents into legitimate writing jobs, that eventually led him to coaching and ultimately an NBA championship. Oh, I've been thinking a lot lately.

Like my dinner with Shawn Marion the other night.

I wrote earlier in the season about my belief that Shawn and I would get along nicely, being that we have so many psychological similarities. And now, more than ever, I wish I were in a position to talk to him over a nice filet Mignon, my treat. (Shawn's a notorious cheapskate, but that happens when you grow up poor and learn the true value of a dollar in the United States.)

We were sitting in this nice, upscale north Scottsdale restaurant talking about the future of the club. What do the Suns need to do to win a title next year?

"We just gotta do what we do," Shawn insisted.

"You've been doing what you do, though. The team needs to do something more," I replied, shoveling the medium well steak into my mouth, giving him the opportunity to answer, and myself the opportunity not to have to expound.

"I do everything I can to help the team win," he explains. "The team just needs to step up on defense. I'm guarding the best players in the league every night, and I need some help behind me."

"Fair enough. But what can YOU do?"

"I don't know, man. What more can I do?" We've heard that question from Shawn before, and it is at this point that I take over the conversation, turning it into my own basketball version of a Shakespearean monologue.

Shawn, you need to focus on defense. The best thing that you can do for this team is to concentrate all your efforts on winning that Defensive Player of the Year award, and the only way to do that is to sacrifice your offensive numbers. Your goal should be to make the All Defensive first team. You've been saying it for years, so now it's time to prove it. Make the commitment.

Let Amare have his numbers. We all know that he's the key to a title, and his production will offset any that Tim Duncan or Dirk Nowitzki put up. But the team needs to stop the other teams' second men. That's where you come in, Shawn. Your job is to lock that guy down and allow your team to take care of the rest.

You should still get your points. There is nothing wrong with scoring 15 a game, especially when you're pulling down 12 rebounds and sending two shots back per game and picking the opponent's pocket three times. Those plays lead to fast break basketball, which is where your offensive talents lie, anyway. Score your points on the break, or the occasional screen and roll when Amare is sitting, or on those nifty in bound alley oops from Boris Diaw.

It's all about being a great defensive player who is a scoring threat. So far in your career, you've been a scoring threat who is a great defender. Being known as a scorer, though, won't get you the accolades you need to justify your career. You have an ugly (albeit it mostly effective) jump shot, and that's just not marketable. You're a good passer, but creating off the dribble isn't your strong suit. You have to do something that is unmistakeably amazing, and that is defend the opposition's best player, and shut his lights out.

Just make sure that you play 100% on defense. Shawn, my friend, it's time to go Scottie Pippen on the league. You'll get your thirty point games, just as he did. But you will also gain the respect of the league as one of its best all around defenders. Remember, Pippen made the top 50 all time players list by doing that. There is room in the next 50 for you.

By the time the dessert tray made its way by, Shawn had barely touched his plate. It wasn't that he was stunned or upset at everything I was telling him. He was simply that deep in thought at the prospect of being remembered as one of the greatest all around players of all time.

More than the gratifying ego boost he received, Shawn seemed intrigued with the idea of being known for something specific and spectacular. The Glove, the Dream, the Sidekick. They were great defenders who did what they do.

I guess that Shawn's biggest fear is ending his career as a Bruce Bowen or Dikembe Mutombo. He's already established himself as a posterizer, so he probably shouldn't be thinking that an all out defensive season would put him in those offensively challenged ranks.

So finally, over coffee and cheesecake, Shawn said to me, "Well, if that's what I do, then I'll be doing what I do, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

Classic Shawn.

I got this check, big fella. You pick up the championship check for us.