06-04-2009, 01:00 PM
<!--quoteo(post=42038:date=Jun 4 2009, 11:47 AM:name=vitaminB)-->QUOTE (vitaminB @ Jun 4 2009, 11:47 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}><!--quotec-->Speaking of Clutch, what ever happened to that band? They were pretty fucking good.
Clutch is best described by looking at Robert Horry. That man was a mediocre at best NBA player, but damn if he didn't shoot 100% from the three point line when it mattered the most. That's a guy who plays better than he really is when it matters the most. Now I'm sure that at least some of that clutchness is attributed to being able to overcome nerves and fears when the game is on the line, but there is some other intangible quality that makes someone clutch.<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->
This article from 2005 will explain it better than me:
In Tuesday's Game 3 of the NBA Finals, San Antonio and Detroit are tied with about a minute left in the third quarter. The Spurs' Robert Horry launches a high-arching three-pointer from the top of the key. Nothing but glass. Forty-five seconds later, Horry drives in for a layup—rejected. When the Pistons run out on a fast break, Horry tries to block Richard Hamilton's shot from behind—goaltending.
<b>In less than a minute, Horry's burst of bad play has helped the Pistons lock up a victory. But don't tell that to the announcers. "That's a guy," says ABC's Hubie Brown, "who is not giving up on anything."</b>
<b>This year's playoffs have followed an all-too-familiar script. Robert Horry throws up a bunch of bricks. Robert Horry gets celebrated as "Big Shot Bob," legendary sharpshooter and five-time NBA champion. In both 2003 and 2004, Horry's missed three-pointers helped eliminate his teams from the playoffs. Yet during this year's finals, there's a commercial showing then-Laker Robert Horry hitting a three from the corner against the 76ers back in 2001. "The Finals," says a voice-over, "where legends are born." In Horry's case, it's more like, "The Finals, where legends are nurtured, coddled, and defended against reality."</b>
Robert Horry's career has been built on a great, underappreciated basketball truth: <b>Big shots are only big shots if you make them. Unlike a missed field goal or a botched ground ball, a missed three-pointer is imminently forgettable. Even the best long-range shooters miss most of the time. Every NBA game has dozens and dozens of misfires, all of which look more or less the same. One more miss, no matter how important the context, tends to get lost in the clutter. If you're a role player, that goes double—nobody expected you to make the shot anyway.</b>
Horry's true genius isn't his clutch shooting. It's his understanding of roundball amnesia. After sinking a buzzer-beater against Sacramento in the 2002 playoffs, Horry explained his philosophy. "If I hit it we win, if I miss y'all are going to blame the stars for losing the game anyway," he told the Washington Post's Michael Wilbon. "There's no pressure on me." Horry has none of the guts and gets all of the glory. <b>In the 2003 playoffs, Horry went 2-for-38 from behind the arc—and everybody blamed Shaq and Kobe for the Lakers' downfall. After this year's Game 3 drubbing, Horry got off again—it was Manu Ginobili's and Tim Duncan's fault. </b>
It's a myth.
Clutch is best described by looking at Robert Horry. That man was a mediocre at best NBA player, but damn if he didn't shoot 100% from the three point line when it mattered the most. That's a guy who plays better than he really is when it matters the most. Now I'm sure that at least some of that clutchness is attributed to being able to overcome nerves and fears when the game is on the line, but there is some other intangible quality that makes someone clutch.<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->
This article from 2005 will explain it better than me:
In Tuesday's Game 3 of the NBA Finals, San Antonio and Detroit are tied with about a minute left in the third quarter. The Spurs' Robert Horry launches a high-arching three-pointer from the top of the key. Nothing but glass. Forty-five seconds later, Horry drives in for a layup—rejected. When the Pistons run out on a fast break, Horry tries to block Richard Hamilton's shot from behind—goaltending.
<b>In less than a minute, Horry's burst of bad play has helped the Pistons lock up a victory. But don't tell that to the announcers. "That's a guy," says ABC's Hubie Brown, "who is not giving up on anything."</b>
<b>This year's playoffs have followed an all-too-familiar script. Robert Horry throws up a bunch of bricks. Robert Horry gets celebrated as "Big Shot Bob," legendary sharpshooter and five-time NBA champion. In both 2003 and 2004, Horry's missed three-pointers helped eliminate his teams from the playoffs. Yet during this year's finals, there's a commercial showing then-Laker Robert Horry hitting a three from the corner against the 76ers back in 2001. "The Finals," says a voice-over, "where legends are born." In Horry's case, it's more like, "The Finals, where legends are nurtured, coddled, and defended against reality."</b>
Robert Horry's career has been built on a great, underappreciated basketball truth: <b>Big shots are only big shots if you make them. Unlike a missed field goal or a botched ground ball, a missed three-pointer is imminently forgettable. Even the best long-range shooters miss most of the time. Every NBA game has dozens and dozens of misfires, all of which look more or less the same. One more miss, no matter how important the context, tends to get lost in the clutter. If you're a role player, that goes double—nobody expected you to make the shot anyway.</b>
Horry's true genius isn't his clutch shooting. It's his understanding of roundball amnesia. After sinking a buzzer-beater against Sacramento in the 2002 playoffs, Horry explained his philosophy. "If I hit it we win, if I miss y'all are going to blame the stars for losing the game anyway," he told the Washington Post's Michael Wilbon. "There's no pressure on me." Horry has none of the guts and gets all of the glory. <b>In the 2003 playoffs, Horry went 2-for-38 from behind the arc—and everybody blamed Shaq and Kobe for the Lakers' downfall. After this year's Game 3 drubbing, Horry got off again—it was Manu Ginobili's and Tim Duncan's fault. </b>
It's a myth.