I've been boning up lately on the weird world of basketball  statistics, a field less mature than baseball statistics. I don't feel all that  confident in my understanding of NBA numbers yet, but I do want to mention that  Matt Yglesias' new Slate piece explaining why Dirk  Nowitzki of the NBA Finalist Dallas Mavericks has gotten better since his  best friend, the great point guard Steve Nash, left the team, strikes me as a  lot more plausible use of data than Malcolm  Gladwell's recent book review about basketball statistics in The New  Yorker. Yglesias writes:
                    
                   If Dallas  isn't winning because it plays better defense, then what's the team's secret?  The Mavericks are winning because they've unshackled Dirk Nowitzki. The  conventional wisdom says that great players in general, and Nash in particular,  make their teammates better. But in the case of the Mavericks, Nash made  Nowitzki—the team's best player and his best friend—distinctly worse.
Playing with Nash turned Nowitzki into a half-star, half-carnival freak. Nash's  penetrate-and-dish moves allowed the 7-foot tall, David Hasselhoff-loving German  to take advantage of his uncanny accuracy from the 3-point line. It turns out,  though, that having him spot up for 3-pointers isn't the best use of Nowitzki's  abilities. Nash's great asset is his unselfishness and ability to find the open  man. What makes Nowitzki special is that he doesn't need to be open in order to  score. Nobody can guard him...
A strong case can be made that Nowitzki, not the MVP Nash, has now emerged as  the best player in the NBA.
Nowitzki has gotten better by parting ways with the league's most unselfish  player. And Dallas as a whole is proving that you can generate an effective  offense by "playing the wrong way." The Mavericks run lots of  isolation plays and don't usually bother passing to the open man. Nash's Suns  ended 19.7 percent of their possessions with assists, the highest rate in the  league. Nowitzki's Mavericks assisted teammates just 14.8 percent of the time.  Only the horrifyingly bad Knicks had a lower rate. Meanwhile, the superselfish  Mavs had the league's second-most efficient offense in the regular season.
  
 I would guess that Yglesias  was inspired by the criticism  of Malcolm Gladwell's contention, based on his three economists' rather  unsophisticated analyses, that Kevin Garnett has been far and away the best  player in the NBA for years.
Garnett is a great basketball player, but in his current situation on the awful  Minnesota Timberwolves, he's too unselfish for his team's good. He does all the  subtle little things well, but he doesn't do enough of the obvious big thing: put  the ball in the basket. He averaged only 21.8 points per game in 2006 on a  team where everybody else stinks. He needed to score about 30 ppg just to lift  his team to mediocrity.
Something that has been hard for me, and many others, to learn is that in  sports, the most effective athletes are often the selfish or show-offy ones, not  the good citizens who always do the conservative things that the coaches tell  them to do. Back in 1920, the fans loved Babe Ruth for hitting more homeruns  than all the others teams in the league, but the baseball experts held  him in contempt for swinging for the fences instead of choking up on the bat and  trying for singles. Well, we now know for sure that dumb ol' Babe was right and  all the smart money guys like Ty Cobb and John McGraw were wrong about this  fundamental question of baseball strategy.
Or remember when the young Magic Johnson organized a palace coup on the Lakers  and got his coach, Paul Westhead (who had won the NBA championship with Magic  not long before), fired and replaced with Pat Riley? Magic felt stifled by  Westhead's conservative offensive style and wanted a coach who would let him  play the freewheeling "Showtime" game that the fans loved. Well, Magic  went on to win four more championships.
After Magic, it became stylish to view scoring as a crude, inferior skill than  just about anybody could do. The real art of basketball was in passing to the  open man, like Magic did. When Michael Jordan came along, the fans were  instantly enraptured but the mavens sniffed. This guy was always shooting  the ball, which seemed so 1970s: sure, he'll sell a lot of shoes with his fancy  scoring average, but you can't win championships leading the league in scoring.  Six championships later, none of them won with a genuine point guard on the  Bulls, we know that the fans were right and the experts wrong.
In golf, the old, prestigious Ben Hogan strategy of driving for accuracy, not  distance, then hitting superb long irons onto the green is obsolete. Tiger  Woods, Vijay Singh, Phil Mickelson, and Ernie Els now follow a less elegant  approach of "flogging" the hell out of the ball off the tee, going and  finding it, then wedging it out of the rough and onto the green from short  range. It works.
As a conservative, this pattern in sports rather irks me. Cautious  traditionalism deserves to win, right? Well, it doesn't always work out that  way...
 
My published articles are archived at iSteve.com -- Steve Sailer