Requiem

Was this the least negative fan reaction to a game seven slaughter in the history of sports? I mean, think about it. The Atlanta Hawks lost by 34 points. They were never in it. They didn't bring the hustle, the heart. The team was flat out embarrassed. But how did you react? I tipped my hat and offered an appreciative golf clap. Even Mark Bradley (always ready with the vitriol) was soft and optimistic. If watching the games didn't make it clear enough, this placid reaction illustrates just how improbable and exciting those three wins were. Ultimately, this series left me with two main thoughts going forward.

1. The Optimism. This series stuffed Hawks fans full with amazing memories and overwhelming emotion. I was lucky enough to attend two home games (3 and 6), and I will remember those games for the rest of my life. I thought game 3 was incredible, but game 6 was transcendent. The atmosphere was more intense than anything I've ever experienced, and it was flat-out euphoria by the end. Joe's performance in game 4 was unforgettable. That shot still haunts me. How many informed fans thought the Hawks would win a game? I regretfully acknowledge that a five game series was my hopeful ceiling. They didn't pull it off to the fullest, but they did shock the world. They proved that the talent on the roster was not some mirage seen by playoff-starved fools like me. I've seen what Josh Smith can do when he doesn't launch ill-advised treys. I've seen what can happen when the young, athletic Hawks get out and run, play aggressively, and take it to the free throw line. Mike Bibby may not be the answer, but I'm still confident that Acie can ball. He just needs the opportunity to develop and learn. If (big if) we keep the Joshes, with a year of Bibby/developing Acie, this team can be special. I'm not going to go crazy and call for titles or anything like that, but 37 wins? This series erases all doubt that this team is talented enough to take it to the next level, well past 37 wins. Unfortunately, it's a lot more complicated than that, which brings me to my second point.
2. The Indictment. Did this team suddenly transform into some supernatural being? Were they hiding this deadly arsenal just to retain the element of surprise? Hell no. Honestly, looking at the games we won in the series, the Hawks didn't play that well. They showed the talent, yes, but they pulled it off with some devilish concoction of passion, luck, and unrepeatable bursts of amazing. I watched many, many Hawks games this season. With few exceptions, I saw the same thing: a pile of powerful raw materials that was never shaped into a coherent machine. In 89 games (89 f'in games! not even counting previous seasons!), a legitimate, stable offensive system never appeared. Even on defense, players often looked lost--missed assignments, missed rotations, spurts of gift-wrapped offensive rebounds. Mike Woodson is a terrible coach. It is criminal how long he has been at the helm. Billy Knight is not a very good general manager. He has made some reprehensible decisions, but he has assembled a competitive roster (ignoring the lack of a bench for a moment). Most importantly, he has wanted to fire Mike Woodson for months. The Hawks upper management is clearly the product of some incestuous beast relationship years ago. This litter of narcissistic, blind fools might actually retain "Coach" Woodson. That scares me to death. The three amazing (there's that word again) playoff wins should have finally sealed Woodson's coffin. Somehow the first 9,997 nails (estimating) did not keep the lid down, but this must end now. Another year of Woodson will prevent this team from taking a step up. The Hawks won three playoff home games in spite of their coach. I hope the check-signers recognize this unavoidable truth and send the shaved gentleman* on his way.

Don't let my fears sully the celebration of a great series. Dwell on the optimism, not the indictment. I feel strongly about what I have said, but Woodson's tenure is well out of our hands (unless Atlanta Spirit reads this blog! shout out to my homeboys in the suits!). We do ourselves no good to agonize over decisions that we must accept.

*I say gentleman with no jest. I just trashed Mike Woodson and called for his head, but he was always respectful and mostly honorable. Other than a few back-handed remarks about coming out flat, Woodson never publicly called out his young players. Ironically, these remarks about preparedness only served to drive a few more nails in his own coffin. Still, he can go out like a man.