21–22 NBA Previews: The Memphis Grizzlies (#18)
I am open to the fact of mystery in the universe. Though I believe firmly that most, if not all, phenomena can be explained, or at least understood, through rigorous application of the scientific method, I also believe there are things that are unknowable. For example: why is there anything? What’s more, I find, for myself, that this not-knowing is a source of hope, burbling like a spring of fresh water, reminding me that there may be possible futures I can’t see from where I’m sitting. At the same time, I also have a tendency to search for explanations to what I don’t understand, and, occasionally, to find beauty in the understanding—in the possibility that I might get to glimpse, somehow, the inner-workings, so to speak.
Basketball then, of course, fits squarely into my cosmos. Basketball discourse overflows with data—good data; illuminating data, even—even as it resists any data-driven conclusions. One of the things I love so much about basketball is that as soon as you settle on an interpretation, the interpretation begins to crumble. This is why the game is constantly changing, why some smart team always starts the zig when everyone else is zagging.
Anyway. I woke up this morning ready to write about the Grizzlies, so I found myself thinking about Ja Morant. Something special is happening here, and it is difficult to put one’s finger on it. Nevertheless, I will endeavor to try.
Let’s start with the Grizzlies as an organization. In a league often rife with teams pursuing outsized expectations either internal or external in nature, the Grizzlies are remarkable in their ability to know themselves. Take, for example, this summer’s trade with the Pelicans. The Pelicans, like the Grizzlies, are a young team with a budding superstar. In fact, Zion Williamson is universally regarded as a superior player, both now and in terms of his potential, to Ja. The teams made a trade in which the Grizzlies took on bad contracts (Steven Adams and Eric Bledsoe for Jonas Valančiūnas) in order to move up in the draft (17-to-10 and 51-to-40). What’s unusual here is that the Grizzlies were the better team last season. While the Pelicans—not at all ready to actually do anything important—gave up assets for short-term gains, the Grizzlies continued taking the long view.
This kind of franchise-level self awareness is unique, which is cool, because Ja is also unique. First of all, there’s an old school quality to his impact on the game. He came into the league two years ago and was immediately, as a rookie, the gravitational center of his team. That in itself isn’t so unique; high lottery picks come into the league with the opportunity to lead their team from time to time. As a rule though, those teams tend to be terrible. The Grizzlies, with Ja, exceeded expectations, coming within sniffing distance of a .500 record and just barely missing the playoffs in the West. Again, last season, the Grizzlies exceeded expectations, this time sneaking into the playoffs. They lost in five games to the Jazz, but Ja was a monster, averaging 30 points and eight assists per game.
Those numbers lead me to my final point about Ja, which is this: his impact doesn’t quite make sense. You look at his regular season numbers, and they are underwhelming. You see how well the Grizzlies are playing, how they are winning more games than they are supposed to win, and how Ja is at the center of all of that, and you expect him to have excellent stats. He doesn’t. He’s not a good shooter, he turns the ball over too much, he’s a bad free throw shooter for a guard, he’s flighty and inconsistent on defense, etc., etc. And yet. And yet.
That’s what so exciting here. I don’t really have a frame of reference for this—for a player who comes into the league as a rookie, immediately takes the reins of a team and leads them to far better performance than anyone expects while simultaneously seeming to be a total work-in-progress. I’ve racked my brain, and the closest I can come for comparison is young Jason Kidd, but that doesn’t feel quite right either.
What I’ve concluded is this: Ja’s best skill is his vision on the court. His feel for the game is incredibly special, even as his individual skills lag a bit. Basketball is a game of spiritual, holy connection, and Ja is a connector. He’s communing with something rare and wonderful. That communion bleeds into his team. It leads to winning—to the sum that is greater than the parts. I am full of profound excitement when I think of Ja’s future. I can’t wait to see where it goes from here.