Imagine prehistoric man. How did it occur to our distant ancestors to consume flesh? I sometimes have this sort of hilarious notion that — sometime after the accidental and miraculous discovery of the possibility of wielding fire — an animal fell into the flames. Horrifying at first, but then, am I crazy or does that smell kinda good?
I think we all understand in some way that learning happens in all kinds of ways. You can try to learn stuff, but you also learn stuff without trying. Unbeknownst to yourself, you learn; you are learning.
And anyway, it’s pretty bizarre what, in life, is automatic and what isn’t. Sometimes when shit is not very good, I realize I’m holding my breath. For a few minutes, this terrible thing is happening: I’m choosing to breathe. I’m having to choose to do it. It isn’t just happening on its own like it’s supposed to happen. And then, just as suddenly as this terrible situation began, something distracts me enough to make it stop, and my breathing is blissfully out of my hands again, thank God.
One time when I was much younger, I had the hiccups for two full days. Somewhere close to 48 hours, anyway. During the night, I tried to sleep, but the hiccups would not cease. They were a little unpredictable, and that unpredictability made it impossible to fall asleep.
Of course, somehow sleep came around, but then, eventually, I woke up. That was the worst part — waking up and realizing I still had the hiccups. I’m afraid, even now, just writing about this! Am I asking for it? Am I conjuring the next thing that drives my brain friggin’ nuts?
It’s basketball season! That’s why I’m thinking about accident versus intentionality. About what comes naturally and what can be improved. For every basketball team, some sort of equilibrium must be reached between doing what you’re already good at and doing what you’re not yet good at — between leveraging and expanding the skills already present.
Some of the most important points of inflection around the NBA involve this huge question: will a player be willing to do what that player sucks at doing? Which brings me to
Ben Simmons, Brooklyn Nets
The Nets are such a horrible rat king of unknowns that I start to feel annoyed the moment I begin thinking about them, but it’s possible their entire season will come down to one of the stupidest questions imaginable: exactly how afraid of shooting free throws is our guy Ben Simmons?
Free throws: what a mind-fuck! Even a lumbering klutz like your humble narrator can learn how to make, like, 60–70% of his free throws through a reasonably small amount of consistent practice; and yet, throughout the history of basketball, we have example after example of players who are unable to do this in spite of, in many cases, a great deal of effort.
Entire careers have been ruined by the fear of going to the line. Antoine Walker comes to mind. Andris Biedrins. I’m sure you can think of others, but Ben Simmons is better at basketball than all of them.
Simmons presents a deliciously confounding array of considerations. He’s a genius-level passer with unbelievable court-sense, and he’s one of the most graceful and impactful defenders — both on and off the ball — of his generation. And yet, the ability to shoot the ball — perhaps the simplest basketball skill to work on during the lonely hours of one’s life — eludes him.
Even that doesn’t really matter though. Or doesn’t have to. The fear is the problem. Are you willing to do what you suck at even though you suck at it, Ben? That’s it. If you can just do it, even though you suck at it, everything will be fine; but fear is the mind-killer.