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Don't bet on a Ming dynasty
by Graham Flashner / May 5, 2002

It's not that Ming doesn't possess unusual grace and agility for a man his size. Already, he looks infinitely more coordinated than Shawn Bradley and Manute Bol ever did. At private workouts conducted last week in Chicago, Ming kissed 18-footers off the glass, executed graceful low-post drop moves and blocked shots effortlessly. His opponent, Chris Christoffersen, a 7-2 Dane from Oregon, would have made Greg Ostertag look good. Observers, like PJ Carlesimo and Jerry West, were enthused, not ecstatic. Others, like Clippers guard Quentin Richardson, were downright skeptical about Ming's ability. (The feeling might be mutual there). Either way, the message is that Ming has the potential to be an impact player, not a franchise player. But too many general managers will choose not to hear it.

The NBA's legacy is built on the dominating center: Mikan, Russell, Wilt. That legacy was furthered in 1969, when the Milwaukee Bucks won a coin toss for the rights to draft Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (nee Lew Alcindor)
and won a title two years later. But sometime in the mid-1980s, the league underwent a power shift. Magic, Bird, Barkley, Erving and Jordan ushered in a new era that prized speed and mobility over size and brute strength. No longer did teams throw it down low to the big fella and wait for something to happen. Power forwards, small forwards and big shooting guards became the rage. The dominant center had become an endangered species. Teams like the Bulls and Pistons had proved you could win a title without a superstar pivot man.

There were exceptions, of course. Bill Walton, Hakeem Olajuwon and David Robinson delivered championships to the teams that drafted them. And Patrick Ewing and Shaquille O'Neal were No. 1 lottery picks worthy of their stature. But while players like Shaq, Tim Duncan and perhaps the Alonzo Mourning of the late 90's are latter-day throwbacks the days of the big-man-as-savior appear to be long gone. Latter-day big men tend to be forwards masquerading as centers (Marcus Camby) or workhorses with special but limited skills (Todd MacCulloch).

You might think NBA GM's would've learned by now, but they're still tilting at windmills. Over the last fifteen years or so, GM's have badly miscalculated on prized college centers who went belly-up in the pros. Perhaps the most infamous remains Portland's No. 1 draft pick of 1984, Sam Bowie. A towering 7-1 forward/center from Kentucky, Bowie was sure to be the antidote to a Blazer team struggling to reestablish itself in the post-Bill Walton era. Two broken legs, three teams, and ten years later, Bowie was out of the league, six championships short of the fellow he was chosen ahead of - some tongue-wagging guy named Jordan. (The 40 year-old Bowie is said to be mulling a comeback, inspired, he says, by MJ's own).

In 1989, the Sacramento Kings drafted 6'10" Louisville sensation Pervis Ellison with the very first pick. But 'Never Nervous' Pervis was never much of an impact; hampered by early season foot injuries, the Kings gave up on him after only one year. The Kings could've had Sean Elliott or Glen Rice, but such oversights were to become the norm rather than the exception. In 1993: with future stars like Penny Hardaway, Allan Houston and Isaiah Rider waiting in the wings, the Philadelphia 76ers went with the Great White Hope of the day, 7-6 Shawn Bradley. In retrospect, unrealistic expectations were placed on Bradley from the start: he hadn't exactly lit up the scoreboard (14.8 ppg) in his one season at Brigham Young, and a two-year stint as a church missionary in Australia hardly toughened him for life in a league full of mercenaries. Sure, he blocked shots at that elevated height, it was the least he could do. Watching him move laterally, however, was akin to watching a tree sway in a stiff wind.

In 1985, GM's rushed to snap up a trio of big men after the Knicks claimed Ewing with their No. 1 pick. The combined lifetime scoring averages of Benoit Benjamin, Joe Kleine and Jon Koncak roughly equal that of the future Hall Of Famer drafted just behind them, Chris Mullin. In 1996, a similarly anonymous trio -Erick Dampier, Todd Fuller and Vitaly Potapenko- were chosen ahead of a raw 18 year-old named Kobe Bryant. In 1995, the Golden State Warriors could've had Jerry Stackhouse, Rasheed Wallace or Kevin Garnett. Instead, they took Joe Smith -now a Timberwolf- with the No. 1 pick. And in 1998, the Los Angeles Clippers, never known for draft-day genius (Bo Kimble, anyone?) took Michael Olowokandi ahead of Vince Carter, Dirk Nowitzki and Paul Pierce. To be fair, Olowokandi is at last starting to thrive, which means his days with the Clips are probably numbered.

What does this mean for Ming? Jerry West noted that he would probably be "one of the top five or six players in the draft". But West is one of the more rational (and wildly successful) men at his position. Other folks in New York and Chicago are already dreaming of a Ming dynasty. They will jump at the chance to snap him up first, on the off chance that he is the second coming of Wilt or Kareem, or at the very least, a marketing phenom with a hitherto untapped fan base in the billions. There's something mysterious and exotic about Ming, words not usually used to describe his collegiate predecessors. He will no doubt be the best NBA player to come out of China. But don't expect him to change the game. At this point, playing the game well would be achievement enough.

Graham Flashner is a regular contributor to HoopsHype.com

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