The Island: The Death of Isolation Basketball (7 of 24)
I·so·la·tion
/ˌīsəˈlāSH(ə)n/
the process or fact of isolating or being isolated.
I·so·lat·ed
/ˈīsəˌlādəd/
far away from other places, buildings, or people; remote.
having minimal contact or little in common with others.
Is·land
/ˈīlənd/
a piece of land surrounded by water.
a thing resembling an island, especially in being isolated, detached, or surrounded in some way.
I·so·la·tion bas·ket·ball
/ˌīsəˈlāSH(ə)n/ /ˈbaskətˌbôl/
a type of offensive play used against man-to-man defense. The idea is to give the ball handler room to play one-on-one against an inferior defender by preventing the remaining defenders from joining the play.
Basketball is a team game, probably today more than ever. And that’s good. The Stephen Curry led three point revolution has reshaped basketball into a game that emphasizes ball movement and a more balanced distribution of offensive duties. For the majority of basketball history, the keys to the offense belonged to a select few. In its infancy, it belonged to tallest players who could prop themselves up next to the basket and repeatedly hammer the ball into the goal. Wilt Chamberlain, Bill Russell, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Moses Malone, and more. Entire offenses ran through the post, the best ones did at least. Then there was a shift to more skill based players, often wings, who would run the offense through the mid-post. They played the game with a flair, the game became more musical and vertical. It became a time in which we really could feel the creativity of a singular basketball entity. Isolation basketball was the primary tactic for these players because they were practically unguardable in one on one situations with their blend of skill and athleticism. Jordan, Kobe Bryant, Tracy McGrady, Carmelo Anthony, Allen Iverson, LeBron James, and more. They were superhuman. Heroic. Sometimes, 1 could beat 5. On their island of wizardry, finesse, and power; thousands were at the mercy of one.
This formula worked with varying levels of success. As different teams rushed to emulate the mold of the winning teams, a lot of fans grew to resent the less talented avatars of isolation basketball. These are the selfish, shoot-first players that are often stricken from the modern game. “Hero ball” picked up a negative connotation.
Then the game sped up, the canvas in which the artistry of basketball was explored had expanded to the full court from the half court. Zone defenses entered the equation, providing less opportunities for one-on-one play. Analytics entered soon after and indicated that isolation/post-ups were more efficient when the isolated player was looking to create for others through passing rather than looking for their own offense. Basketball changed in a way that spotlighted the everyman just as much as the superman. And maybe we changed as a culture too. Everything was in flux at all times; a shapeless, evershifting cacophony. The game traded a lot of its rhythm for a faster tempo. And something was lost, a certain purity, at least for me.
Of course isolation basketball maintained some type of position in today’s game. The Houston Rockets version of James Harden seemed to completely live and thrive in a mad scientist mixture of isolation basketball and the analytics movement. But even then, it hardly functioned in the same vein as the glory days of that particular style. The similarities were there but the spirit was not. The role of isolation in basketball has eroded down to spots. There are guys like Kawhi Leonard, Kyrie Irving, Kevin Durant, Jayson Tatum, and more who often have isolation sets run for them because they possess gifts that make them difficult to contain, even with the extra defender that wasn’t previously allowed. But it’s not the same. And that’s good for the game but it does not illuminate my soul the way basketball used to. I find it hard to explain.
My basketball soul was unsurprisingly raised and cultivated by Kobe Bean Bryant. In my estimation, he is the hero of hero ball. The most deadly isolation basketball player of all time. Even as the NBA shifted to zone defenses and he was double teamed every possession, he only continued to get better. His island could accommodate more people than anyone else before and everyone else since. Everyone else played with their body, Kobe played in increments, nothing appeared to move at the same time. His eyes, hands, feet, head, legs, shoulders all seemed to have a separate heart but the same mind. Guarding Kobe in single coverage was like trying to guess a phone number that would shift to something else the moment you got it right. Defending Kobe was a guessing game and he killed you in those moments of lost information. That was his job in isolation, to make you lose information. You guess, you’re dead. I don’t think anyone has ever been better.
But that’s not where the winning came from. Even Kobe had his detractors that implored him to pass the ball and involve his teammates in the offense more. And that’s what he did. Isolation remained his bread and butter but when it came to winning championships, more often than not, the onus was on him to leave his island and include his teammates due to creative gameplanning. Society seemed to have come to a conclusion on the accepted perception of hero ball: YOU ARE NOT THE HERO. YOU CANNOT DO IT ALONE. I would agree. Kobe agreed. Kevin Durant. LeBron. Jordan. The heroes always needed someone or something else to elevate them to the levels that they aspired to. And that’s probably why it has faded. Teams no longer feel inclined to invest into the idea. Hero ball has died.
It is customary to align yourself with the hero of the story. We are a slave to perspective and the protagonist is the position we most naturally picture ourselves in. But in my experience with life, I am more often the defender trapped on the island than Kobe. That loss of information is where I find myself. I don’t know where things are going and I can’t stop thinking about what I need to do to stop everything. For the most part, I just need a break. To just to stop and breathe and reassess. When the state of lost information lasts too long it begins to warp the mind. The isolation forces you to forget a time in which you did know. You need to get off the island, before you forget forever. There’s no easy out. As the defender you just have to give it your best shot and live with the result. And then you keep living.
