It's Friday and the NBA season is more than a week old. You know what that means: the first 10 Things I Like and Don't Like of the year, starring a breakout superstar, the buzzy Hornets, the scuffling Nets, and more.
1. Ja Morant is the perfect superstar
After banking another thrilling win in Stephen Curry's house Thursday night, Morant is the season's undisputed early breakout superstar -- keeping the Grizz above .500 as they navigate injuries and lineup changes.
As I've written before, Morant is (even as he scores more) the rare young superstar who dominates without bending everything to his will. He doesn't play like someone who cares about the Grizzlies being "his team."
Morant is happy to get off the ball and work as a turbo-charged cutter. He cuts selflessly, knowing he may just end up sucking in the defense and unlocking an open look for someone else.
Given Morant's speed and head-hunting ferocity, it is surprising how willing he is to slow down in transition -- to wait for teammates to pop up in his wake:
How many young star guards make that play for Desmond Bane? (By the way: Bane and De'Anthony Melton have already canned 11 pull-up 3s between them after making 41 combined last season. Bane is doing way more off the dribble.)
Morant oozes change-of-pace craft, and makes the simple plays -- taking what the defense gives:
Morant notices Paul George forcing him away from Steven Adams' pick, a strategy that depends on Adams' man -- Isaiah Hartenstein -- dipping into the paint. But Hartenstein isn't there; he's glued to Adams:
Morant sees the opening, and takes it. But he's not overeager. He doesn't go too fast, or drive with blinders on. Even with paydirt in sight, Morant keeps his passing reads in mind -- knowing his sudden acceleration might draw help.
There is an inclusiveness to Morant's game. He is the kind of star other guys want to play with.
He's hot from deep, and the league will be in trouble if Morant improves his shooting to the point it's no longer safe to duck screens against him. We'll see if that sustains. As is, Morant's ability to change speeds makes him effective against any coverage.
He has a long way to go on defense, and his next big task on offense is helping to get Jackson going.
2. Miles Bridges, diversifying
You could see signs of something brewing with Bridges last season -- signs beyond his earthquake dunks: canny passing from the post, more pull-up 3s, niftier playmaking, very close to 50/40/90 shooting. He made irregular mini-leaps in several skills -- scattershot progress that portended a bigger overall leap once those skills coalesced.
But this? I'm not sure anyone could have reasonably expected this: 26 points on 53% shooting and double the shot volume. Yowza. Bridges won't maintain this, but he's going to be a better offensive player -- and sooner -- than even the Hornets anticipated. (Otherwise they'd have signed him to an extension.) Bridges' trajectory on defense is murkier; the switchy, small-ball Hornets need him to become more airtight sliding on the perimeter.
One reason for the scoring binge: Bridges has doubled his isolation attempts per 100 possessions, according to Second Spectrum, and looked comfortable -- and under control -- overpowering small defenders:
Bridges is morphing into the jack-of-all-trades tweener forward every good team needs.
3. Bouts of unfocused clutter in Dallas
Given his training camp comments, there was good reason to worry Jason Kidd would try to fix an offense that wasn't broken. Until the Mavs find a viable secondary ball handler -- easier said than done -- there isn't a better pathway to clean looks than running pick-and-roll with Luka Doncic. Barring some glaring size mismatch -- what up, Boban! -- doing just about anything else against a set defense is throwing away points.
Kidd's decision to start Kristaps Porzingis as nominal "power forward" alongside Dwight Powell drew eye rolls, but the Mavs can still run a Doncic-centric attack in that alignment. It just involves Porzingis spotting up, with Powell as Doncic's rim-running screener. The two bigs can swap jobs, of course. Porzingis' shooting makes him a viable pick-and-pop threat -- dangerous enough to force switches. The key is choosing how to exploit those switches; Doncic cooking bigs is almost always better than Porzingis posting up a wing at the foul line, and hurling some turnaround jumper.
Porzingis can also slip screens, catch passes from Doncic in space, and find Powell on lobs -- though he has never been that sort of consistent, nimble playmaker.
The Porzingis-Maxi Kleber pairing makes more theoretical sense, but Kleber seems to have lost some mobility on defense. If that proves lasting, a lot of Kleber's viability as a two-way player vanishes. (Kleber's six blocks Thursday against the San Antonio Spurs were encouraging.)
There is a human element here. The Mavs need to keep Porzingis engaged -- if only to coax his peak defense -- and doing that may involve force-feeding him a few looks. Also: the Mavs are 3-0 since their lifeless opening loss to the Atlanta Hawks -- with the league's ninth-best offense over those three games.
But this stuff can't happen:
There is zero point in Porzingis loitering five feet inside the arc in the midst of that Doncic-Powell dance. It is sabotage. If the endgame in Porzingis' mind is posting up Jae'Sean Tate, well, choose a better endgame. Tate is stout and mean, and gives no quarter.
Games between elite teams are won on the margins.
4. How much Kevin Durant sticks out in Brooklyn
It is jarring to watch the Brooklyn Nets now -- 28th in offense, 27th in passes made and shots at the rim -- and contrast this version with the souped-up one that rendered good basketball teams helpless a few months ago. On that team, Durant could blend in as much as one of the dozen greatest players ever can blend in anywhere -- starting some possessions, finishing others, shifting around the floor. He moved in concert with the Nets. They matched his speed, physical ability, and calculated execution.
For two weeks now, Durant has existed on a different plane from his teammates. They are playing at one speed -- one level -- and Durant is at another. He has to rescue them.
A lot of that is Harden being not very good. He says he's playing his way into shape after rehabbing from hamstring issues. The new officiating rules are clearly in his head. Late in Wednesday's loss to the Miami Heat, Harden beat Bam Adebayo off the dribble and arrived at the right elbow with Adebayo on his left shoulder and a clear runway toward Markieff Morris as the last line of defense. All Harden had to do was take one more dribble, and he'd have had either a layup, a dump-off to Paul Millsap, or an easy skip to the corner.
Instead, Harden picked up his dribble at the elbow, flailed toward Adebayo, and barfed some no-chance-in-hell 15-foot floater in the general direction of the rim. It was almost as if Harden were testing the officials, or even protesting: You think my old tricks were ugly? Get a load of this heinousness!
Harden's free throws have cratered, and only 21% of his shots have come at the rim -- by far a career low. He isn't generating as much separation, and because of that, not drawing as much help. When peak Harden drives-and-kicks, the recipient is wide open. This Harden is not gifting his targets nearly the same territorial advantage.
Harden has looked disengaged on defense even by his "playing my way into shape" standards. The Nets have been an abhorrent transition defense, and the on/off numbers point to one common denominator there: Harden. The Heat's game plan was so blatant it would have humiliated a player wired to feel humiliation: Run anytime Harden is on the floor, even if there is no apparent advantage, because we know we can beat him back anytime.
Brooklyn is a team-worst minus-42 with Harden on the floor -- and plus-9 when he rests.
The absence of Kyrie Irving has sapped some ineffable spirit from the Nets. They played at their fastest with Irving on the floor. Alongside both Durant and Harden, Irving found a way to be active and subservient at once: cutting into open spaces, zipping touch passes, driving headlong into the paint right off the catch. On and off the ball, Irving added juice. The Nets beyond Durant have very little juice right now.
They have too many big men, and none are great or even good outside shooters. Playing two together cramps the floor. Play two with Bruce Brown or Jevon Carter, and Durant faces the kind of crowd he hasn't seen since dodging Thabo Sefolosha and Kendrick Perkins in Oklahoma City. Brown can't work his roving floater game in that environment. Carter hit 37% from deep last season, but defenses still treat him like Tony Allen. Patty Mills brings punch, at the expense of defense.
A lot of these concerns go away if Harden is Harden again. (Should he, umm, maybe sign that extension?) But his sputtering has laid bare how much Brooklyn's margin for error shrinks without Irving.
5. Harrison Barnes, pullin' up
Hypothesis: Barnes is Western Conference Tobias Harris -- the small-ball power forward who appears dull and disappointing through the wrong lens, but is actually a really good player who gets better in under-the-radar ways every season.
The most obvious commonality is their low assist production: Barnes averages 1.8 dimes per game for his career, with Harris just above him at 2.2. Those numbers (like the ball) don't lie; Harris and Barnes are average playmakers.
Even so, Barnes has honed his passing to an acceptable place. He can run a useful pick-and-roll, and make the right play when defenders run him off the arc.
This season, he's hunting pull-up 3s. Like, whoa, that's Harrison Barnes?
Barnes is attempting 2.5 pull-up 3s per game after averaging 1.3 attempts last season and 0.75 two seasons ago. The more dangerous Barnes is from deep, the easier it becomes to dust defenders who press him:
Barnes has exploded early: 27 points on 51% shooting, plus that game-winning buzzer-beater in Phoenix on Wednesday. Barnes is jacking more 3s and getting to the rim at a career-best rate. He's the main reason Sacramento is 2-2 despite slow starts from both De'Aaron Fox and Tyrese Haliburton.
Moan about Barnes' contract or his alleged failure to live up to golden boy prospect status, but know this: Any good team would love to have him.
6. The ups and downs of Nickeil Alexander-Walker
The 1-4 Pelicans are simply not built to score without Zion Williamson. They are 29th in points per possession, ahead of only the punchless Detroit Pistons, and struggling at basically every aspect of offense beyond rebounding. They have coughed the ball up on 18.3% of possessions, a laughable mark that ranks 28th and will be dead last in a week if it sticks.
Without Williamson, the Pelicans are a collection of interesting scorers in search of a central force. Devonte' Graham is a better spot-up option than ballhandling fulcrum. Jonas Valanciunas just wants to mash suckers. We keep waiting for Brandon Ingram to make a leap as a passer, and it keeps not really happening. Kira Lewis Jr. isn't ready for heavy ballhandling duty. Tomas Satoransky, touted part of the inexplicable Lonzo Ball dump, is out of the rotation already.
That has left a lot on the plate of Alexander-Walker, and this is what you get sometimes when you put too much on the plate of a young combo guard: shaky shot selection, passes that don't happen, as many turnovers as assists:
Alexander-Walker isn't a good enough pull-up shooter (about 28% for his career on pull-up 3s) to hoist that baby with so much time on the shot clock -- and superior options to explore after generating a juicy switch and bending the help defense.
That pass to Garrett Temple has to happen now ...
... and not two steps later, by which time one defender is rotating back to Temple -- with a second ready to draw that charge.
I'm bullish on Alexander-Walker long-term. He'll shoot better soon. He's long, with good instincts on defense. The Pelicans just need Williamson, yesterday.
7. I enjoy Gary Trent Jr., but please pass sometimes
I was a Trent fan before Trent cracked the Portland Trail Blazers' rotation. He's a fearless shooter with an old-school, jab-stepping midrange game, and he competes on defense. He has amped it up on that end so far for a Toronto Raptors team that is exactly as advertised: ultra-long, snarling, fast -- able to toggle between switching and flying around with screaming rotations.
Scottie Barnes and Dalano Banton fit right into all of that. Barnes has the patience of a veteran in traffic -- plus way-above-average vision for his experience. Banton is a giant point guard -- he's 6-9! -- who blots out passing lanes on defense, and pushes the pace for a team that subsists in transition. As Banton and Barnes propelled the Raptors to a stirring win over the Indiana Pacers on Wednesday night, I could almost hear Toronto's obsessive (in a good way!) fans squealing from 500 miles away.
Back to Trent: He's fourth in the league in deflections per game. (Toronto is No. 1 overall by a mile.) He's good.
One hole: Trent doesn't make enough productive passes. He has five assists in five games. For his career, Trent has dished 1.6 dimes per 36 minutes -- one of the 10 lowest figures ever for any player listed 6-5 or shorter with at least 3,000 career minutes. Most of the other guys on that are pure stand-still shooters.
Trent is more than that. He can dribble, and he moves without the ball -- often catching it with the floor in flux. He has passing windows, but he either doesn't see them or chooses not to use them:
There has to be a way -- beyond teeing up an offensive rebound -- to get that ball to Khem Birch.
On a team with enough playmaking, this doesn't matter. Perhaps the Raptors can be that kind of team when Pascal Siakam returns -- and as OG Anunoby, Barnes, and Banton develop. (Fred VanVleet is about maxed out steering things.) But for now, the Raps -- 19th in offense and 26th in assist rate -- could use more easy, assisted buckets.
8. John Collins, leaning in all the right directions
Collins could have sulked and regressed over the past two seasons. He conceived of himself as a max-level superstar, but no such offer ever came. Trae Young took control of the offense, and then Clint Capela took over Collins' role as Young's go-to pick-and-roll partner -- shoving Collins to the side as an oversized power forward.
But Collins made the best of it. He developed other parts of his game. He has hit 40% on 3s since the start of the 2019-20 season -- providing space for the Young-Capela dance. Defenders contest his 3s now, and Collins punishes them with nimble blow-bys.
He still screens for Young, and has become a much better passer out of the short roll -- regularly hitting Capela with soft lobs. It's early, but Collins is averaging about 3.5 assists per 36 minutes -- almost double his career average.
Collins has built a more polished post game against switches. He's dangerous skulking for put-back jams.
He fills some backup center minutes, which test his defense. Collins has dialed up his attention and effort there, too. He's more aware, on his toes, earlier at the rim when help is required. He embraces the dirty work. He's not, like, amazing, but he's fine -- part of way fewer breakdowns than two seasons ago.
He closed Atlanta's three-point win over the Pelicans on Wednesday with a follow dunk and smart help defense on Ingram's last-second miss -- a nice encapsulation of the all-around player Collins has become.
His 14-of-16 banger Thursday wasn't enough to contain the straight-up exciting Washington Wizards -- now 4-1, and looking very much like they received an entire functioning NBA team in exchange for Russell Westbrook.
9. Julius Randle's life is getting easier. BING, BONG!
This play seemed unremarkable, but it's emblematic of how and why things have loosened (at least outside crunch-time) for Randle -- and for the Knicks, suddenly hoisting bunches of 3s and winning in lots of ways.
Randle taking a screen from either member of New York's starting backcourt last season -- Elfrid Payton and the solid Reggie Bullock -- would have accomplished very little. Defenses did not concern themselves with Payton. They worried about Bullock flaring for 3s, but knew if they closed out on him, Bullock could not hurt them off the bounce. This is precisely why the Knicks could not hunt the Hawks' Young in the playoffs.
That no longer holds with Kemba Walker and Evan Fournier. Both are threats from deep. If their defenders stay home on these Randle pick-and-rolls, Randle has a clear driving lane. If defenders rush to snuff Walker and Fournier pick-and-pop 3s, both can knife into the lane.
The concept works in reverse. After five games, New York's starting backcourt is 17-of-38 combined on pull-up 3s. Payton and Bullock hit nine all last season. When Randle screens for Walker and Fournier, his defender has to slide away to help. Randle will feast on more wide-open pick-and-pop 3s. If defenses trap Walker and Fournier, Randle can slip near the foul line, catch a pass, and lob to Mitchell Robinson or (eventually) Nerlens Noel.
New York may slip a notch on defense, but that is worth the trade-off. The playoffs exposed the Knicks were going nowhere interesting with the offense almost entirely dependent on Randle.
Last season, Randle's expected effective field goal percentage -- based on the location of each shot, and the nearest defender -- hovered around an alarmingly low 47%, per Second Spectrum. Randle outperformed that by a lot, but doing so required extraordinary shotmaking. That expected figure is up around 51% so far this season -- a good sign.
10. A mandatory bench taunt
Rule No. 1: It is always funny when a player mistakenly passes to a coach, referee, opposing player, or teammate on the bench -- doubly so if it's obvious why the passer thought said illegal target was a viable one. (Example: teammate in uniform, standing along the bench near where a corner shooter would be.)
Rule No. 2: If said target is an opposing player, he should -- nay, must! -- go into a shooting motion to further humiliate the passer. Bravo, Andre Drummond: