Swish Theory’s strongest asset is its people. All from different locations, professions, academic backgrounds and rooting for teams across the league, but all thinking critically about the sport they love.
How did they arrive to Swish Theory? Some caught the hoops bug from a high-flying dunker or undeniable bucket-getter. Others fell for unsung heroes, a compelling story or the dynamic strategy of the sport.
Let them tell you below, in their own words, about a specific player who influenced the way they see the game.
Mark Cheung – Contributor
Like in everything, I’ve had good role models and bad role models when it comes to basketball. Just as how you look back on your 12-year old self wondering, “how did I think – insert any pop punk band – was good”, I’ve had those formative moments of thinking Avery Bradley was setting the case for guard DPOYs, or that Jonas Jerebko was gonna be a pioneer of the stretch big era – yeah let’s forget about that one. I was a homer and my favorite players changed how I viewed the game. For better, or often for worse.
I finally saw the light in 2020. That was the year COVID hit, and amongst all of the other crazy things that happened at that time, somehow having more time to pay attention to the NBA draft was one of the more important things that happened to me. As someone who loved and consumed basketball all their life, this was all incredibly new to me. At the time, the NBA was a story of outcomes to me – like checking if my favorite player had a good box score. Analyzing the draft was a story of processes – how did those 16 points in the box score actually get there. I got sucked into this rabbit hole quick- from harmlessly customizing draft classes on NBA2k20 MyLeague, to then reading NBADraft.net scouting reports – all of a sudden, I was nose-deep into The Stepien.
The 2020 draft class became the foundation for how I think basketball. I learned what a skip pass was from guys like Tyrese, Killian, and LaMelo. LaMelo specifically was unlike anyone I’ve watched before – authoring many of my first real conceptions of feel, untraditional athleticism and flexibility and shiftiness, what goes into a good handle, attacking set versus unset defenses, and more. Onyeka and Wiseman taught me each type of pick and roll coverage, the differences between explosive and quick twitch athleticism, and the idea of load time. FSU’s Patrick Williams and Devin Vassell showed me what nail defense was, tagging the roll, 2.9’ing the paint, weakside rim protection and help defense. I could go down my whole board lol – but, in the end, I think any player can impact you and change how you see the game, it’s just when you realize it.
Neema Djavadzadeh – Contributor
Few things give me more life than putting myself through deep, excruciating anguish. Hence, my lifelong devotion to the Houston Rockets. Since I was a young Neema, the Rockets have brandished every wall in my bedroom. Whether it be the two foot tall Yao Ming bobblehead I still have today, or the poster of Tracy McGrady dunking THE EARTH that I still can’t find the image for to this day (and if anyone finds it please DM me). The Rockets, and their players, have had a dear place in my heart, and few made me want to rip it out and throw it in the Bayou the way Josh Smith would every time I’d watch him shoot a three. Despite this, Smith had long been my favorite player, and what started my love for the Point Forward archetype.
Let’s take it back one step further and say that there were two players who made me love basketball, aside from the natural answer of Kobe. Those two players were Steve Nash and Steve Francis (coincidentally, I think Steve is a subpar name). Seeing their handles, their ability to manipulate the court, and shooting prowess made me love the game, and the point guard position.
Until I realized there were 6’9” dudes who could (kinda) do the same thing. Josh Smith, Lamar Odom, Hedo Turkoglu, and many more all suddenly had me glued to my seat. In recent years, I’ve come to appreciate these players and what they bring to a team. Having a player with incredible vision at 6’8” or higher can really disrupt a defensive scheme and we see these players become more and more apparent in today’s game. Now you have legit point guards at 6’8” like Luka Doncic, or you have pseudo-Point Guards who can still run your offense like Dyson Daniels and Cade Cunningham. These players allow so many new avenues for your offense to run, and when those players are also lockdown defenders, they unlock a whole new level to your team. Smith was that for many years in Atlanta, and made me fall back in love with his game when he cooked the Clippers and CP0 to send them crying back home ringless when Smith was a Rocket. Even though he may not be the pioneer of the Point Forward, Josh Smith’s contribution to the archetype (and my love for it) can not be forgotten, including all his missed 3s.
Tyler Wilson – Contributor and Finishing Touch Podcast Co-Host
As a near life-long Spurs fan there is a laundry list of players over the years that have influenced my perception of the game and, quite literally, the name of my child. Fandom is a crazy, tribal thing that is both joyous and devastating, leading me to only one name. Kawhi Leonard.
No player has had a greater impact on my view of the game, from the steady grind of his development to his unbelievable defensive dominance and finally to his sudden injury and departure. On the court, watching a two-way terminator like Kawhi greatly influenced my view of what is important when building a balanced and competitive basketball team. The value of defensive cohesion and versatility cannot be overstated. I will never forget the overwhelming dread of watching those Spurs teams (with the greatest defensive player on the planet) aimlessly stumble around in their attempt to defend the effervescent guards of the mid-2010’s Western Conference. When a single weak link can sink your ship, it’s hard to survive with multiple on the court at once.
Beyond his defensive excellence and the inherently limited nature of that impact without a proper environment, Kawhi’s career made clear to me the insane standard of excellence in this league. The level at which you have to continually improve not only in on-court skill, but mental and emotional strength as well is enormous. It takes a special kind of person, not any skillset or athleticism, to make that possible. Projecting that from the tape of a singular college season is a flawed endeavor, a larger picture of someone’s propensity for growth is a necessity.
The memories of Kawhi in a Spurs uniform will always have a strange hue to them, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles. In the end, the whole debacle is what drove me into the NBA draft world and an entirely different viewpoint of the sport I already loved. It reinforced the brevity of championship contention and the fickle nature of relationships between player and franchise. Most importantly, it made clear just how thin the margins are when you are pursuing greatness. One error can send everything up in smoke, and time is of the essence.
Larry Golden – Co-Founder and Swish Theory Podcast Co-Host
I have to be honest, growing up I wasn’t a fan of the game as strongly as I am now. Before the obsession came for basketball, there was an obsession for Dragon Ball Z. I was a Krillin fan before any star on the basketball court. I remember after the last rerun of DBZ was over I started to flip through the channels and stopped once I saw these yellow jerseys pop off the screen. Those belonged to high school basketball powerhouse Oak Hill Academy, and that happened to be the night Carmelo Anthony pushed me into the game.
Beyond the loud jerseys, Carmelo’s game was just as loud. He was 6’7” with handle, athleticism and a sweet jumper. I couldn’t believe someone at that size was that smooth as an athlete. From that day forward I followed Melo wherever he went. His Syracuse year was unbelievable, averaging 22 points and 10 rebounds. That year in the Final Four versus Texas was a sight to see, as Royal Ivey and Brandon Mouton were no match for the clear top talent in all of college basketball that season. He finished the night with 33 points on 12-of-19 shooting while grabbing 14 rebounds. Melo would then take care of Captain Kirk Hinrich and Nick Collison of University of Kansas in the National Championship game.
After that season, I remember watching all of his highlights on YouTube and trying my best to mimic his shooting form. Shoveling snow off the driveway and putting jumpers up in the cold freezing winter in Chicago. There are a couple guys that helped shape my love for the game, but Carmelo Anthony is the one who pulled me away from watching Saiyans and pushing me to the hardwood.
David Sajdak – Contributor and Finishing Touch Podcast Co-Host
I grew up in Dallas, but the beginning of my obsession with basketball didn’t coincide with either Dirk Nowitzki’s prime or the championship season in 2011. Back then, soccer stole all my focus, and I only watched basketball in casual settings. Messi was young David’s hero, not Dirk (sorry to my fellow Mavs fans). Instead, the player that sparked my love for the NBA, and fundamentally changed how I viewed the game, was Dennis Smith Jr.
I remember flipping to a Mavs game (iirc it was this one vs the Wizards) one night just because it was on and being captivated by DSJs electric, high-flying play. From then on, I was locked in, watching almost every Mavs game and closely monitoring the upcoming draft, imagining what different players could look like next to Smith. As a reader of Mavs Moneyball, who had several writers singing his praises, I became Luka Doncic-pilled very quickly, catching highlights of the young Slovenian sensation whenever I could. When the Mavs dropped from the 3rd pick to the 5th on lottery day, I remember thinking that my hopes of seeing Luka in a Mavs uniform were all but dashed. We all know what happened next, and for half a season, I got to see my dream backcourt play together. Dennis’ time in Dallas came to an end sooner than I expected, but I’ve had the fortune to watch Luka Doncic play basketball for my favorite team ever since.
Over time, I’ve become more invested in the NBA and the draft, in particular, taking an interest in the analytical side of the game as a tool to help make sense of what happens on the court. I started learning about data visualization and data science in general during quarantine, and now I combine it along with my own analysis to write about the game that I love. As I get closer and closer to my goal of eventually making this my career, I think back to that November night every so often, when a Dennis Smith Jr. dunk forever changed the trajectory of my life.
Kris Amundsen – Co-Founder and Swish Theory Podcast Co-Host
I did not discover my love of basketball until very late in the game. I grew up in Southern California, catching pieces of major sporting events like the World Series or NBA Finals, but none of my family and friends had a true rooting interest in any specific sport, team, or player. Instead, it wasn’t until I was already in law school that a passion for basketball crept up on me unexpectedly. I had loosely followed the college basketball career of Jimmer Fredette because I graduated from BYU around the same time he ascended to national attention. After spending a few seasons with the Sacramento Kings, Fredette was traded mid-season in 2014 to the Chicago Bulls, and I decided to watch a few Bulls games to see if he was going to pan out in the NBA.
I don’t recall Jimmer playing very much, but I became captivated by the Bulls. Having lost Derrick Rose to another knee injury and Luol Deng to cheap ownership, the Bulls’ playoff hopes should have been toast with a 14-18 record on the day of the Deng trade. Instead, Joakim Noah and crew went on a 34-16 tear the rest of the year and Noah finished 4th in MVP voting. Watching Noah play was such an odd experience. He wasn’t super athletic, had an ugly-looking shot, and played with a wild demeanor. There was nothing aesthetically pleasing about his game. And he was incredible. I’d never seen a center do what he could do offensively, creating advantages out of seemingly nothing with his passing and (likely illegal) screens, but it was his ferocity and hustle that stood out the most. He was the kind of guy every fan wants on his team and every opposing fan loathes. I never thought he was the kind of player that could succeed in the NBA; now, I feel like every team could use a guy like him. He was the first player who changed the way I viewed basketball and the path to success in the NBA. I’m very grateful for those serendipitous circumstances that have led me to experience the rich beauty of this game since.
Oscar – Contributor
When the Knicks selected RJ Barrett 3rd overall in the 2019 draft, my expectations were through the roof. It was easy to put my weight behind this seemingly-total package prospect who had drawn internet attention for years and was coming from a blue blood school. Media members and fans alike anointed him as the savior of my Knicks, and his resume clearly looked the part! While RJ’s career in New York might not have turned out quite how I imagined to this point, his skillset and development arc were vital to my understanding and passion for basketball.
RJ was my introduction to thinking about basketball critically: the existence of microskills, the relationship between athletic profile and on-court skills, and the idea of “touch” as a latent skill are all things that I learned through watching and thinking about Barrett. RJ offered a different angle than the other Knicks centerpieces I had witnessed to that point. Melo was a midpost technician with out-of-this-world shotmaking skills, and Porzingis offered an intersection of rim protection and shooting that was unique to the league at the time. But Barrett’s sell was much less tangible, and relied on things like functional strength, rim rate, and mentality – traits that aren’t as widely discussed amongst casual basketball fans as skills like pull-up shooting or ball handling ability. RJ’s combination of youth career prestige, underlying holes in skillset, and brand of strength-based creation taught me how to think outside of the box as an evaluator.
Gannon Rice – Contributor
Growing up in Chicago, I’ve been watching the Bulls for as long as I can remember. The success of the early 2010s Bulls led by Keith Bogans were the first teams I recall being a fan of. Never will I forget my Taj Gibson starting agenda I had during those years. However, I was young, and was never able to appreciate how good those teams were, nor was I that big of a basketball fan then. Some years go by, and we’re sitting at the 2017 playoffs. These were odd times for the Bulls, as this was the post-Derrick Rose era led by a combination of old veterans and the up-and-coming Jimmy Butler. We squeaked into the playoffs as an eight seed, squared off with the Boston Celtics. I was more than surprised by what happened to start the series, and that was due to the wizardry of Rajon Rondo.
Entering the playoffs, my expectations were low, given we were the 8 seed and showcased pure mediocrity throughout the season. However, Rajon and the Bulls came to play. Game 1 wasn’t a dazzling performance by any means, but filled up the stat sheet with 12 points, 8 rebounds (5 offensive), 6 assists, along with 3 stocks to help the Bulls to make the series 1-0. In the second game, he dropped 11 points, 9 rebounds, 14 assists, and 5 steals to make the series 2-0. Rondo had me captivated by his crafty finishing, pesky defense, and complete control of the floor, wowing me with his exceptional passing ability. I still remember my excitement during the game watching Rondo tear apart the Celtics defense and nagging my parents about how awesome Stacey King is. Rajon re-ignited some hope for this rag-tag Bulls crew to be enshrined in history for defeating a 1 seed in the first round. Unfortunately, he got injured and missed the rest of the series.
The Bulls ended up losing the next 4 games without Rondo, and for the next 4 years were a laughing stock of the NBA. However, Rondo’s short, but sweet, playoff performance activated my passion for the game and remains as one of my favorite basketball memories.
Matt Powers – Co-Founder and Lead Editor
Going to go ahead and show my age up front by picking Dale Davis. Growing up I was taken by the late 90s/early 00s Pacers teams. While Reggie Miller led them to the Finals in 2000, it was the bruising Davis who caught my eye. Amid all the dazzling technique of the series as the Pacers eventually lost to the Kobe-Shaq Lakers in six games, it was how the relatively dull Davis found a perfect application for skillset.
While typically playing PF next to Rik Smits, the 7’4’’ Dunking Dutchman suffered consistent foul trouble against the bulldozer that was Shaq in his prime. Davis, while still giving up ample height and weight to Shaq, and despite his generally workman-like approach to the game, was a genius of physicality. The former 13th pick was able to keep the defense treading water against the dominant big man. With well-placed arm bars, quick feet, active hands and constant vigilance Davis was able to pester one of the best players the game has ever seen.
To me, and despite ultimately losing the series, Davis showed me, in his discipline and technique, how dynamic the game can be. What could be seen as weaknesses became immense strengths at the highest level of the game. And despite being a regular joe forgotten to the annals of history compared to Shaq’s immense legacy, Dale Davis hung with him and made him earn every inch.
Will Morris – Contributor
Isaiah Thomas helped spark my love for basketball. I’ve been a Celtics supporter for my entire life, but was only four years old when the squad took home the 2008 championship. By the time I became a true C’s fan, Pierce, Garnett, and all the players from that team had passed their primes. So, my first memories of supporting a “good” NBA team were between 2015 and 2017 when the King of the Fourth ran the show in Boston.
IT was the perfect hero for me: 60th pick in the draft, over a foot shorter than some of his opponents, and had already been counted out by two other organizations before arriving in Boston. His underdog story allowed me to hold on to my childish professional basketball dreams a few years longer than your typical middle school NBA fan. I look back on that time fondly, with memories of Tommy Heinsohn cheering “The Little Guy!” after each game-clinching shot. Every now and then I fire up his highlights, still finding myself amazed by his strength, change-of-pace ability, and pull-up shotmaking.
While Thomas’ time in Boston (and time as a true NBA star) was short, I credit him for helping me fall in love with the game.
Ross Pinsler – Co-Founder and Web/SEO
When I started watching basketball in the mid-2000s, my favorite team was not very good. At the time, the Bulls were mid-rebuild (literally, a mid rebuild) and the future of the franchise was up in the air. To a young and impressionable Ross, basketball was a sport built off of dominant iso scorers. A league predicated on star power. I wasn’t exactly wrong at the time.
Then, the Chicago Bulls drafted this guy named Derrick Rose. He only reinforced the image I had in my head of what an NBA superstar looked like. But this response isn’t actually about him. When Rose’s injury troubles began, a new star emerged in his place: Joakim Noah.
An actual beast of a man who could not shoot or score like these other NBA stars. He was not built like the dominant centers of the day, and he did not care if he antagonized an entire rival fan base during a road playoff game. He reveled in it.
He looked… kinda funny. He shot free throws like he had never seen a basketball before. He said whatever came to his mind. But on the court, he was able to lead the team. He ran fast breaks like a point guard. Joakim Noah was the first player I heard the term “point-center” applied to. He paired those guard skills with a Defensive Player of the Year award and numerous points/blocks/assists triple doubles.
To a younger me who was still navigating the ins and outs of the game, Joakim Noah broke the mold. He became the face of a franchise and an MVP candidate by being the ultimate glue guy, and making his money doing the dirty work. He didn’t need to hit a stepback jumper in your face to win a game. He’d rather be the one blocking it.
Charlie Cummings – Contributor
Though I can tell you all about those gloriously awful Nellie Ball Warriors teams and the We Believe Squad, all my learning came in retrospect. I didn’t grow up in a sports household; there would be a Giants game on if anything, but never any basketball. What first caught my eye was watching the Finals in 2009 and 2010, the two faceoffs between the Lakers and the Celtics. I hardly understood what I was seeing, but I knew that I loved watching Pau Gasol play.
A big who played inside and out, constantly used his body for screens and positioning, could pass from almost any angle, and finish with authority as well as he could hit a pick-and-pop jumper. A primal scream here and there was all too endearing to my middle school ears. I was beginning to understand some parts of the game, but most importantly I was starting to get hooked.
Fast forward to the Spurs-Heat Finals. I had begun following the Warriors in earnest like a lot of my friends in years prior, but they had little identity at the time. What I really loved watching was how those San Antonio teams worked as a complete unit. They made all the right passes, took the right shots, always kept things together no matter who they faced. But it was Tim Duncan who really evolved my understanding of the game.
He combined all of the offensive aspects I loved about watching Pau with impeccable defense and a calm demeanor. Watching Duncan taught me the importance of positioning, footwork, defensive organization, and how to execute in every defensive facet possible. It opened my eyes to the machinations of the game, and how much existed under the surface that I hadn’t even begun to understand.
Before that, I had thought that dominance was flashy, loud, athletic. Duncan helped me grasp how much of dominance comes from preparation, study, and mental processing. He flipped how I saw basketball upside down, and I could never look at it the same.
Years later, watching players Draymond Green and LeBron James remind me of how much more there is to learn about the dynamics on the floor. But ultimately, that impression of Duncan showed me what a wealth of knowledge is available in basketball, and rooted deep in me a desire to understand as much as I could about the game I love.
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