The Los Angeles Clippers' Blake Griffin takes a shot against the Dallas Mavericks at the American Airlines Center in Dallas, Jan. 25, 2011
The other overlooked aspect of Griffin’s arsenal, says this executive, is his hands. “They allow him to extend his athleticism,” says the executive. Why? If you can control the ball in your mitts, the defense is less likely to take it away from you. That boosts your confidence in the same cocky way that an adult will playfully hold a mini basketball when joshing around with kids at a smaller hoop. “When I’m in the air, my hands make it easier to move the ball from side to side, which makes it harder to block,” he says. “It really helps me finish my shots.” And when Griffin is trying to grab boards in traffic, his hands give him a decided advantage. “They become suction cups on rebounds,” says the executive.
Defenses have already started tossing those cups to the floor. On Jan. 25, a hard foul from Dallas Mavericks center Brendan Haywood forced Griffin to land on his elbow during Dallas’ 112-105 win over the Clippers. “Every play can’t be a dunk-contest dunk,” Haywood, who was whistled for a flagrant foul, said after the game. Griffin bruised his elbow but downplays the severity of the injury. Still, while he says he wasn’t surprised by the foul, Griffin makes clear he wasn’t a fan of Haywood’s words. “I wasn’t going up to do some crazy dunk,” Griffin says. “I was just trying to finish. I didn’t like that comment, didn’t appreciate that comment.”
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One of Griffin’s biggest fans is also irked. “We don’t like it at all,” says Griffin’s mother Gail, who was in the stands in Dallas. “It’s really hard. Blake experienced that a lot when he was at Oklahoma, and we just really didn’t think it was going to happen in the NBA. We thought, These guys are professionals. They know that this is their livelihood. I don’t really understand it.”
Despite Griffin’s heroics, the Clippers, perhaps the saddest, longest-losing franchise in all of professional sports, are just 17-28, though they’ve played decent ball since starting the season 1-13. Their performance is a reminder that as well as Griffin has played, the young, freak-show highlight-film players — guys like the spindly, pre–Scottie Pippen Michael Jordan and Dominique Wilkins (known as “the human highlight film”) — rarely win championships. They need a better supporting cast, and to improve their all-around game, Griffin’s defense can certainly use some work. The Celtics and the Spurs, for example, have old core players and don’t sport a showstopper on Griffin’s level. Tim Duncan’s bank shots, after all, aren’t going viral.
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Still, it’s hard to overstate Griffin’s impact. In Los Angeles, he’s stolen some of Kobe Bryant’s cachet. The few times in recent decades that the Clippers have had a playoff-caliber team, you hear stories about how they’re finally hot in Los Angeles. Check out devoted fan Billy Crystal in the stands! Soon thereafter, however, they revert to losing 60 games. But this is different, because as much as basketball is a team sport, individual players always lead the show. And the Clippers have never before sniffed a sheer talent like Griffin.
“There’s more energy in the arena,” says Charlie Kinstler, a Clippers season-ticket holder since 1985. “Every time he touches the ball, you can hear everybody taking a deep breath. ‘What’s he doing to do?’ We’ve never felt that before.” Even when the Clippers were a playoff team, no one was begging Kinstler for tickets. This week alone, two of his buddies sent him e-mails looking for a seat. “I’m happy for him,” says Kinstler of Griffin. He quickly modifies that thought: “I’m happy for me.”