Straight Shooting: From Dell to Stephen Curry

In December 1996, the Street & Smith’s Sports Group collaborated closely with the National Basketball Association and the National Basketball Coaches Association to publish the Street & Smith's NBA Playbook, on which I served as Editor in Chief. The Playbook was a slick 48-page magazine directed at secondary school students and provided free to every male and female varsity player in the United States. There were profiles of Olympic gold medalists David Robinson and Lisa Leslie and of high school sensation Elton Brand, as well as essays on sportsmanship and proper shooting form.

A major section of the magazine was devoted to the five positions in the game—center, power forward, small forward, point guard, and shooting guard. The skills needed for each position were described and written by a different NBA player: Butch Beard, Alex English, Paul Silas, and Bill Walton. Dell Curry wrote the essay (below) on the shooting guard. 

One of the best shooters in the game, Curry finished in the top 10 in the league in three-point field goal percentage. In 1995-96, his 10th NBA season, he averaged 14.5 points, his ninth consecutive season in double figures. Curry did a masterful job of teaching the fine points of shooting to his elder son, Stephen, eight years old in 1996. Fast-forward two decades to the 2015 NBA Finals, where Dell Curry and his wife, Sonya, were hoping to see the sharpshooting Stephen, the NBA's Most Valuable Player, lead the Golden State Warriors to the league championship over the Cleveland Cavaliers. 

Here is the lesson on shooting in the 1996 Street & Smith's NBA Playbook from Dell Curry:

Shooting guard—the job description for this position is in the title. And it's a job most players, regardless of their size or level of competition, would eagerly apply for and gladly accept. What are the requirements for the position? To take the shots. Yes, most applicants believe they have the credentials to do that—or at least they say they are willing to try. But the position is not open to everyone. To be an effective shooting guard you must earn the job. And to do that, you have to demonstrate that you can hit the outside shot on a consistent basis.

Proper Form
When I was growing up, form used to be the most important consideration for shooters: keeping your elbow in a direct line with your body. I don't think that's the most important thing now. A player has to be comfortable with his own shot. Still, there are some standard guidelines for proper form: You have to be square to the target, having your feet and body facing directly at the basket, not pointing to the sidelines. You must be conscious of that and you have to work on it. And when you are on the move, dribbling the ball, you have to be able to pull up, be square, and shoot.

Improving Your Shot
I have devoted a lot of time over the years in trying to improve my shot. It's pretty simple. You get a ball and a basket. I like to practice taking two or three dribbles going one way. Then I pull up and shoot. Actually, you don't even have to shoot the ball. Just practice your form. Make sure that your feet and shoulders are square to the basket. If you do enough repetitions, it becomes a habit. And that is really the primary thing. You have to work at shooting the ball. If you don't put in the time, then it's not going to happen. It's as simple as that.

Early Start
When I was growing up, before I was in high school, I'd sometimes shoot for two or three hours a day. Coming from a small town [Harrisonburg, Va.], and having four sisters, I found that this was something I could always do by myself. Afterward, when I finished my workout, I would go and play with my buddies. 

Technique
Alex English was among the top scorers in the NBA for years, but he readily admits that he didn't have a very good technique. He shot off-balance a lot. Nevertheless, Alex was a great shooter. That just shows you that technique, in some cases, is up to the individual—providing, of course, you can fill up the basket. The most important things are being square to the basket and taking good shots, shots you know you can make. High-percentage shots. That goes for every player.

Confidence
You need confidence to be a good shooter, and you have to maintain your confidence even when you are missing your shots. If I miss five or 10 shots in a row, I know the next 20 are going to go in. I just know it. I never count my misses. I count my makes. I didn't always feel that way, but I gradually developed that attitude. It helps me when I'm in a slump. I believe that when you are in a slump, you have to shoot your way out of it. But that doesn't mean that I am selfish. I like to pass. I always did. 

Versatility
There are other aspects to basketball besides shooting. If you want to improve, if you want to become more of a complete player, then you have to learn the different parts of the game and you must be skilled in the fundamentals. You have to be able to pass the ball. You have to be able to dribble. You have to be able to move without the ball. Basically, the two guard has to be able to do all the things a point guard does in addition to shooting the ball consistently well.

Screen Test
The shooting guard has to be able to move without the ball to get open for a shot. You have to learn to use your teammates to come off a screen with a quick release on the jump shot. When I first got to college, I had to learn to do that. One of the assistant coaches at Virginia Tech, Bobby Stevens, helped me a lot in that area of my game. He worked with me on a swivel move.

Swivel Move
It's really quite simple: You come off the screen, you turn on your inside foot, you catch the ball, and you shoot. Pivot, swivel, and square up all in one motion, instead of catching the ball and then squaring up. It has to be all in one motion. It's more efficient and it makes it harder for the player covering you. At first, it was a difficult move to learn. But I practiced it over and over. Now, it's a habit for me. I don't even think about it. The key is to develop good footwork and get your body square.

Challenge Yourself
The thing I do when I'm practicing my shot is set a personal challenge. I set goals. For example, if I take 50 shots, I have to make 40 or 45. If I don't, I run sprints. Then I go back and shoot again. I call that practicing with a purpose. If you want to get better, you have to challenge yourself. A shooting drill like that is good for your stamina and because it also simulates game conditions. You should practice shooting when you're tired or breathing a little hard because that's the way it's going to be in a real game.

Defending Good Shooters
There are many things you can do to try to slow down the other team's shooters. Make them work as hard as possible at both ends of the court. Deny them the ball. Make them move without it. Try to learn the plays your opponents run for the two guard and then anticipate the moves and take away their options. We look at film of our opponents all the time to help us on the defensive end.

Commitment
Kids should spend more time practicing, but I know they don't. Fifteen or 16 years ago, when I was in high school, we did. But that has changed. High school has changed. Kids don't spend that much time practicing. They would rather make a spectacular dunk than learn how to shoot the ball correctly. But the thing to remember is that you are not going to get too many dunks in a game. Your time would be much better spent in learning to shoot the ball correctly.

Curses

Horrified members of of the Major League Baseball beat found fault this week with Cincinnati Reds manager Bryan Price for the profanity-laced tirade he directed at Cincinnati Enquirer reporter C. Trent Rosencrans on April 20. Price was unhappy with the line of questioning from Rosencrans, who had asked about the availability of a Reds’ player. The manager saw in the reporter’s curiosity disloyalty to the team he was covering and vented his frustration over the release of information that the manager felt could abet the Reds’ opponent.

You can’t really blame Price for his misguided belief that the beat reporter is an extension of the team’s public relations department.  Given the overwhelming volume of gibberish coming out of the mouths these days of so many media-credentialed folks, one could logically assume that the inane and innocuous questions and comments at postgame press conferences are written by the P.R. staff in advance and provided to the media along with updated stats, schedules, and player biographies.

By now, alas, we are all familiar with the line of questioning in the script of the beat reporter to the manager, coach, or player:

“Talk about the game tonight.”

“How big/important was the hit/basket/ goal/ win?”

“How excited/disappointed are you by this win/loss?

 “You’ve got to be happy/upset about the outcome.”

Evidently, Rule No. 1 followed by some beat reporters, is “Don’t make waves for the players and team you are covering.” Rule No. 2 is, “Toss the interview subject a question so soft that he can hit it out of the park, slam dunk it, put it in the hole, or otherwise score uncontested.”

Of course, there were those in the press who rose up high in their saddles to remind Price and the rest of us of the noble calling of the press to distill the truth and nothing but the truth. Barry Svrluga of the Washington Post, no doubt echoing his illustrious forerunners Woodward and Bernstein, wrote, “Now, no beat writer is doing his/her job if he/she isn’t sending out that information [about whether a player is available for a game] in real time…. All reporters can ask of the people they cover…is that they don’t lie.”

Dan Wetzel of Yahoo Sports at least had a sense of humor about the contretemps when he wrote, tongue in cheek, on Twitter: “I think getting a baseball manager to swear 77 times because your story is correct is the highest achievement in sports writing.”

Whoever it was who counted the cuss words has way too much time on his hands.

Price, by the way, was in good company with his choice of words, accepting, as he apparently did, the counsel of Mark Twain, who once advised, “When angry, count to four; when very angry, swear.” And Price, in the next life, may or may not encounter Twain, who admitted, “If I cannot swear in heaven I shall not stay there.”

Kentucky's Undefeated (But Not Championship) Team

Fifty weeks ago, and two weeks into the 2014 NCAA basketball tournament, Kentucky knocked off Wichita State, which had won all 35 of its games and had hoped to become the first undefeated college basketball champion since Indiana in 1976. In the history of NCAA basketball, there have been just three other schools (San Francisco, 1956; North Carolina, 1957; and UCLA, 1964, ’67, ’72, and ’73) to go through the season and tournament without a single loss.

Kentucky’s total of seven national championships is second only to UCLA’s 11. (Louisville has two). Sixty-one years ago, Kentucky went 25-0 but did not win an NCAA title. Here is the background—and my story from Street & Smith’s 100 Greatest College Basketball Players—on that season for the Wildcats and their leader, Cliff Hagan.

High in the firmament of Kentucky basketball stars is Cliff Hagan, one of just three Wildcats in the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame. (The others are Frank Ramsey and Dan Issel.) Hagan was inducted in 1978 after a stellar amateur and professional career.

Born Dec. 9, 1931, in Owensboro, Ky., Hagan was a three-time all-state player at Owensboro Senior High, which he led to a state title in 1949 after scoring a then-record 41 points in the championship game.

“Cliff had probably the greatest hook shot that the good Lord ever saw,” said Ralph Beard, who preceded Hagan at the university. “He was only 6-4 ½ at most, but he’d take the big dudes in and his extension of his arms would prevent any of them from blocking his shots. He could lay it on the floor and he could score on anybody. Obviously he carried that into college.”

Happily for UK fans and coach Adolph Rupp, the college Hagan carried his game into was Kentucky. He led the Wildcats to 86 victories in 91 games, which included a 32-2 mark in his 1951 sophomore year, an eighth straight Southeastern Conference crown for UK, and the school’s third NCAA championship in four years (68-58 over Kansas State).

A year later, Hagan earned the first of his two consensus All-America honors. The Wildcats went 29-3 but were denied the opportunity to defend their title when they lost in the regional final.

In 1953 the NCAA imposed the death penalty on the school, banning it from competition for recruiting violations. Kentucky returned to the court the following season in a memorable game that saw Hagan score 51 points in a blowout win over Temple. He averaged 24 points and 13.5 rebounds, and again was named a consensus All-America, leading the Wildcats to a 25-0 record. Kentucky elected not to participate in the NCAA tournament after the NCAA ruled that Hagan and teammates Ramsey and Lou Tsioropoulos, as graduate students, were ineligible.

In 1974, Hagan was named to the Southeastern Conference all-time team and enshrined in the Kentucky Athletic Hall of Fame. In 2002, in recognition of 100 years of Kentucky basketball, the Lexington Herald-Journal polled a panel of writers, broadcasters, and former university coaches and personnel to determine the top players in school history. Only Issel and Beard received more votes than Hagan.

Memories of New York Magazine (Part 5)

Perks of the Job

In addition to the priceless education I was getting back in the 1970s and a sneak peek of cultural events about to take place in the city, my job at New York magazine had other perks. There were reviewer’s copies of soon-to-be-released books and musical recordings. I left any books or record albums I did not want on a table in the back of the office. One day in 1978, Ellen Aronoff, the classified ads manager, approached with one of my discards. 

“Are you sure you don’t want this record?” she asked. 

It was Darkness on the Edge of Town. At the time, I was not familiar with Bruce Springsteen.

We also had access to film screenings, concert, ballet, and sports tickets, invitations to gallery and restaurant openings and newly staged museum exhibits. The staff attended an exclusive preview of the magnificent King Tut exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum in late 1976. I had the great fortune to attend performances of the opera Hansel and Gretel and the ballet Sleeping Beauty during Christmas week at the Metropolitan Opera House.  

I witnessed the Metropolitan Opera debut of soprano Catherine Malfitano in the role of Mimi in La Bohème and the first run of the opera Miss Havisham’s Fire and the final run of Beverly Sills in The Merry Widow. I saw Mirella Freni in Faust and La Bohème. And my soon-to-be wife and I were at Avery Fisher Hall to hear Boz Scaggs on a sweltering night in July when the lights went out all over the city. It was the blackout of 1977. With an open night on his tour schedule, Boz invited everyone back two nights later for an encore performance after the power was restored. 

That October, I had a press credential for the World Series and witnessed Reggie Jackson’s three-homer game against the Los Angeles Dodgers for the victorious New York Yankees. I appeared on the cover of New York (with other staff members) in 1976 for Tom Wolfe’s “The Me Decade” story.

Cloned Nazis

There was a screening one night in early fall of 1978 at the Loew’s State Theatre in Times Square of the film The Boys From Brazil that the editorial staff was invited to.

  
“Are you going with us?” Ruth asked me. 

 “Who wants to see a movie about cloned Nazis?” I said dismissively.

The next morning, Ruth arrived in a bad mood, vociferously regretting having gone to the wretched film. She loudly informed everyone in the office that I was the only one on staff with the sense to have declined the invitation. I didn’t have the nerve to correct her, having decided at the last minute to attend.

On another night, in 1976, we saw Martin Scorsese's film Taxi Driver with a raucous crowd at a theater in Times Square. It felt like we were all characters in the film we were watching. There were other screenings in private rooms and large theaters (Robin and Marian—at Radio City Music Hall—The Omen, Murder by Death, King Kong, Silent Movie, The Bad News Bears, Marathon Man) and Broadway and Off Broadway plays (Godspell, Shenandoah, Uncle Vanya, Annie, Apple Pie, Hair, Richard III, Equus) that were more fun than edifying.

Even the daily life at the magazine brought wonderful and unpredictable fun. There were wordplay and ridiculously silly and hilarious over-the-top attempts to come up with puns for different pieces in the magazine. The most outrageous and scatological suggestions never had a chance to seeing the light of print. 

I remember Alan Rich suggesting "Port Noise Complaint" as a hed for a non-existent story on the deafening din in the New York harbor. In the May 10, 1976 issue of New York, Alan reviewed both the Royal Shakespeare Company's marvelous production of Shakespeare's Henry V (with Alan Howard in the title role) and the underwhelming Harold Prince/Richard Rodgers collaboration of Rex, a version of Shakespeare's Henry VIII (with Nicole Williamson in the title role and Glenn Close as Princess Mary). Rex was the rare Rodgers flop. It would close its Broadway run after just 49 performances. I wish I still had the LP of the production. The hed I wrote and which ran for Alan's review was "Hank Cinq and Hank Sunk."

I cannot hear a Johnny Mathis Christmas song without thinking of my former colleague Merry Clark, who once ruefully told me about the moment she realized that Johnny was not singing to her. When I reminded her of that not too long ago, she said, “He’s still not singing to me!” 

Close-up With the Copy Machine 
And in the course of a late-night Christmas party in the office, one booze-fueled contributing writer had a memorable close-up encounter with the magazine’s copy machine. I wasn’t an eyewitness but I did see the evidence in the form of a stack of black-and-white reproductions that Ruth Gilbert kept in the bottom drawer of her desk. As it turned out, it wasn't all that memorable for the writer, who had a hazy recollection of the scene. Days later, his anxiety was not assuaged by reassurances from Ruth and Merry that nothing had happened. The incident would later be rewritten by Tom Wolfe in his novel The Bonfire of the Vanities.

I loved getting up in the morning for my job at New York magazine. New York set the tone—and the bar high—for every other city and regional magazine that followed. I’ve tried to describe how exciting the challenge was, how stimulating it was to be a part of the creative team that worked so hard and took such pride in producing consistently outstanding journalism. The days were long and sometimes exhausting, but what an exhilarating time it was.

            

Still, for as rewarding as the work was, the compensation was not reflected in the salary. Mine was a job that paid just $12,000 annually. Even in 1979, that was not a reassuring figure on which to start a family. So, I began to think about looking for a new job. Elizabeth Crowe, a senior editor, had left New York to become editor-in-chief at Parents magazine. She offered me a position as assistant editor. I thanked her for the opportunity but declined. If I was going to make a move, it would be vertical, not lateral, I told her.

Condé Nast

Another former colleague, Kevin Madden, had left New York as advertising manager to join Condé Nast Publications’ newest start-up, Self magazine, in January of 1979. He told me that Condé Nast was looking for a new editor for its sports division. (Wait, Condé Nast published sports magazines?) It was not a well-publicized property among the company’s more glamorous titles: Vogue, House & Garden, Mademoiselle, Vanity Fair, GQ, Glamour, Allure, Architectural Digest, Gourmet, Bon Appétit, Self. 

Kevin’s tip led to a first interview at CNP, which went well enough that corporate secretary and Vice President of Personnel Pam Van Zandt called me back for a second interview. I was offered, and accepted, the job as editor-in-chief at Street & Smith’s Sports Group.

To be continued

Memories of New York Magazine (Part 4)

Critical Care

As assistant arts editor at New York magazine in the second half of the 1970s, I enjoyed my relationship with all of the critics. Reading their copy and working and collaborating with them daily on the edits was an invaluable supplement to my more formal education. I was being paid (although not handsomely) to read superb critical thinkers, surely the smartest formula for any aspiring writer. Before and after work, I was enjoying some of the greatest fiction ever written. Between the required reading for my classes and whatever other literature I had on hand, John Simon would always take note of the novels that accompanied me during my daily commute to and from the office

I remember some of the titles: The Old Curiosity Shop (which edition he reverentially paged through), A Hero of Our Time and Les Liaisons Dangereuses (which he deemed two of the great works of world literature), Anna Karenina, Far From the Madding Crowd, Oblomov, The Trial, The Pastoral Symphony, and The Heart of the Matter. One day he noticed Francois Mauriac’s Le Noeud de Vipères (The Vipers’ Tangle) on the side of my desk. “Yes,” he noted. “That is the correct [English] translation.” 

John Simon

John passed away at age 94 in November of 2019. A brilliant littérateur, a critic of steadfast standards and ideals, John was the smartest, most erudite and well-read man I ever knew. He was never dull, and he took pains to ensure that his copy never was. I learned early on from him how playful language could be in the hands of a linguist. John was born in Yugoslavia in 1925 and was fluent in Serbo-Croatian, German, and Hungarian by age 5. He later learned English, French, and Italian. I had my American Heritage dictionary close at hand—and increased my vocabulary—while reading his copy as he hovered nearby. If I chuckled over a passage, John was delighted. “Yes, yes. That was good, wasn’t it?” he’d say. 

John would very neatly write out his first drafts in a tiny longhand on yellow legal pads, editing as he wrote and later transcribing the essay onto a triple-carbon set character by character on a manual typewriter. It was that version that I first read, from which he made additional revisions and corrections.
    

There were editorial disagreements with John over his physical descriptions of Liza Minnelli, Barbra Streisand, and Sammy Davis Jr. in the original drafts of his reviews of performances by those actors. He had his favorites—in film (Bergman, von Sydow, Bujold, Wertmuller, Malick), in theater (Shakespeare, Buchner, Wilson, Shanley), in criticism (Agee, Macdonald, Warshow, Tynan, Samuels), in music (Britten, Janacek, Satie), and in literature (Voltaire, Graves, Wilbur, Auden)—and anyone who read John regularly knew he could be as effusive in his praise as he was devastating in his condemnation. For example: 

Effusive Praise

Of Richard Wilbur’s translation of Molière’s The School for Wives, John wrote, “Wilbur makes Molière into as great an English verse playwright as he was a French one.” 

He called Beth Henley “a new playwright of charm, warmth, style, unpretentiousness, and authentically individual wisdom.” Of her play Crimes of the Heart, he wrote, “[It] bursts with energy, merriment, sagacity, and, best of all, a generosity toward people and life that many good writers achieve only in their most mature offerings, if at all.”    

He called René Clément's film Forbidden Games “a masterpiece,” citing the acting: “Even the smallest part is letter-perfect...and that of Paulette, by Brigitte Fossey, incomparable.” 

John said Debussy's opera, Pelléas et Mélisande, was “one of the flawless diamonds of the repertory, and certainly one of the most beautiful and influential.”   

        
He said “technical expertise and profound artistic and intellectual integrity make the films of Ingmar Bergman works of art.” 

Of the sublime Max von Sydow's performance in Bille August's “very good film” adaptation of Martin Anderson Nexo's Pelle the Conqueror, John wrote, “But the concluding words of praise must go to Max von Sydow. There is a scene near the end where his misery is shot almost entirely from the back, his face only briefly,  partially visible. Yet there is more ineffable wretchedness in that rear view, as [his character] Lasse weeps in terminal defeat, than other actors could give us in full frontal closeup and twice the amount of time.”

His fellow critic Charles Thomas Samuels wrote, “Simon shows himself a powerful demolition machine for a culture besieged on all sides.” 

The composer Ned Rorem, in his introduction to Simon's On Music, called John “among our country's leading artists.” 

And the filmmaker Bruce Beresford wrote, “[Simon] seemed to me to have more knowledge than it was possible to acquire in a lifetime, yet he was no pedant... I find John's critical writing immensely entertaining even when I'm not in agreement... More importantly, I find his reviews full of insights and perceptions that make reading a collection [of his reviews] as exciting as reading a gripping novel.”

"Not Without Merit"

When John would return to the office after a screening, Ruth or I would always ask him, “How was the movie, John?” More often than not he would wrinkle up his nose and curl his lips in distaste and denounce the film in strong language to describe his revulsion for the plot and/or the performances. Occasionally he would throw a small crumb of praise to the filmmaker and respond in his thick Serbo-Croatian accent, “It was not without merit.” To which Ruth would exclaim, “A rave!” Childish? Silly? To be sure, but entertaining nonetheless, and unforgettable. Good training, too, for dealing later with juvenile behavior by real juveniles.

I left New York in 1979 to become editor-in-chief of Condé Nast’s Street & Smith’s Sports Group. “I never even knew you liked sports that much,” said John, an avid tennis fan. We kept in touch intermittently over the years, chatting over the phone or meeting for lunch in midtown. I reminded him of his comments about my past reading choices, and always asked him for recommended books. Among those he chose were The Cloister and the Hearth, a historical novel about Erasmus, by Charles Reade; The Woodlanders, a Wessex novel by Thomas Hardy; and Evan Harrington and Diana of the Crossways, by George Meredith. 

During one lunch at an eastside restaurant in the summer of 1986, a persistent fly could not be shooed away from our table.

"Did you write something nasty about Jeff Goldblum (the star of the then-current film The Fly)?" I asked him.

"Have you seen that? said John, who proceeded to slam the work.

"No, I have not," I told him. "You might have to see it, but I do not."

When John was fired by New York after 37 years, I wrote to him to express my sympathies. He was touched, and responded so warmly that his critics undoubtedly would not have recognized the heartfelt sentiments he expressed in appreciation. I cherish that letter. Some time after that, I accompanied him, at his invitation, to an Off Broadway production of New Girl in Town. During lunch before the matinee, we talked about our career paths and families. Some time after that he called to invite me to another play. But because that date was just two nights before my daughter’s wedding, I had to decline. Alas, we never did reschedule. Rest in peace, John.

To be continued