When I played high school basketball, I was a matchup nightmare … for my coach.
At 6-foot-2, I had good size for a point guard. At 6.2 in the 40, I had decent speed for a center.
I couldn’t shoot, so the coach put me at point guard.
On offense. Certainly not on defense.
My dad had the coach’s ear and insisted that I play, so I did, with the instructions: Bust your butt on defense. And shoot only layups.
I was good at layups. Could make at least three of every four.
And turns out, I was good at defense, too. As long as I matched up with guys who weren’t a blur.
I could guard the league’s best forwards and shooting guards. Even some centers. It’s not hard to get motivated when sitting on the bench is the alternative.
That’s why I believe I could guard Nikola Jokic. I’m shocked more guys can’t.
OK, not at 6-2 and 185 pounds like I was in high school. My son is 6-7, 230 — give me that size and I know I could do it.
I mean, look at Jokic.
He’s one of the slowest players on the court, and that includes the WNBA. And he’s not a great 3-point shooter.
Those two things combine to make him guardable.
The key to Jokic’s success is his footwork … and stupidity on the part of most of his defenders. The former isn’t exactly “Dancing With the Stars” level, so everyone has a chance.
Even me.
At 6-7? Sure. Have you watched Draymond Green match up with him? He’s 6-6.
Draymond knows defense. And he knows Jokic. Put the two together and you understand why the otherwise unstoppable force has shot 33 percent or less three times in his career against the Warriors, under 50 percent 14 times and below his career average in 25 of 36 games.
What Draymond has taught me is this:
When Jokic has his back to the basket, give him a little space. That’s when he likes to spin, which is problematic for any defender. But with a one-step head start due to the spacing, he can spin like a top — he’s not going anywhere.
Guard him tight when he’s facing the hoop. Spinning doesn’t help him when he’s already looking forward, and he’s not going to dribble around you. If you’re attached to him, when he takes a step backward to shoot his patented fadeaway, you just step with him. Kinda like dancing.
And for crying out loud: No double-teams. My message to any teammate leaving his man to help me out: If they wanted you guarding Jokic, you’d be guarding Jokic. You focus on keeping Michael Porter Jr. or Christian Braun from getting open looks. Like the Thunder have. And if you’re guarding Russell Westbrook … man, you must be a bad defender, because this guy flat-out cannot shoot.
Jokic is at his worst when he can’t pass. In the Oklahoma City series, he’s averaged 5.2 assists a game — about half his season average. And he’s shooting 45 percent, which explains why the Nuggets are in a hole.
What’s the popular lament among football coaches of bad high school teams? We’re small, but we’re slow.
Jokic is slow, but he can’t jump. I can be an all-world defender against guys like that. So should most anyone with 10 times my talent.
He raises the ball to shoot, don’t move.
You see the ball start to leave his hand, jump.
Remember, he’s not jumping, so the release point is maybe 9 feet off the ground. Without jumping, I’m touching 8 feet.
Then by the time the ball is a foot out of his hand, I’ve quick-jumped the required 2 feet to slap the shot sideways.
Did you know that Tim Duncan had the most shots blocked in NBA history? That Pau Gasol wasn’t far behind? And that Zion Williamson is closing ground like Silky Sullivan?
If you can’t jump over the top of defenders, then they’ve got a chance. And Jokic has Zion disease.
The key is: Don’t jump until you see the ball preparing for liftoff. That prevents getting duped into a disadvantageous position, allowing Jokic to do the two things that pad his scoring totals the most — getting past you or drawing a foul.
Lester Hayes could have guarded Jokic. He had the right approach: Just leave me alone and the rest of you guys play 10-on-10. No tackling. No blitzing. No zone coverage. Just me, my conquest and an island.
Of course, screening out is part of the assignment, but that’s another area where Jokic’s lack of speed and jumping ability help me. He has one direction on his rebound-finder, and if I’m in that path, he’s not going to risk a foul.
Not on ME.
And that leads to the fun part: When we get the rebound, it becomes me and the big galoot in a 94-foot sloth race to the front of the other rim. I can win that race — especially when doing it enough times gets my name in the newspaper.
I learned that in high school.
Predicted final score on any given night: Jokic 24 points, me eight.
I’d be the hero, which leads to a bigger issue:
What do I say to Doris in the postgame interview?
“I’d like to thank my dad, because if he didn’t know the coach …”
