Race Against The Machine: Jeremy Lin And The NBA’s Savior Myth
The Bird myth goes that he got no favors from his DNA but scraped by on his wits and work ethic. While he couldn’t jump high, it’s ludicrous to suggest that a man who continually outclassed the best athletes in the world wasn’t blessed with natural athletic ability. I’m sure there are tens of thousands of Indiana farm boys who shot hoops as much as Bird did growing up, and none of them developed his remarkable shooting touch, not to mention his knack for rebounding. Does that come from hard work or innate skill?
Sound familiar?
And for at least some of Bird’s fans, his appeal wasn’t just that he was playing well (he averaged 28 points and 9 rebounds per game in that ’86-’87 season) but that he was “beating Them at their own game”: Bird was a notorious trash-talker and even admitted to being annoyed if he was being guarded by another white player: “I just didn’t want a white guy guarding me,” he once told USA Today. “Because it’s disrespect to my game.”
Part of that narrative further links Mayweather’s statements to Thomas’: it’s not just that Lin is doing so good, the theory goes, but that it’s being positioned as some sort of source of redemption for the game, a tonic for the arrogance of players like Kobe Bryant or Lebron James. By no fault of his own, Lin is being placed into the same kind of spot Bird was in 1987.
(There is at least one difference, by the way, between Mayweather’s insults and Rush Limbaugh’s unfounded digs at Donovan McNabb in 2003. McNabb came into the league less than a decade after the NFL had seen at least two other elite black quarterbacks, and another one led his team to a Super Bowl win. In contrast, the last Asian-American to play for the Knicks, Wat Misaka, predated Lin by more than 50 years. This proves, if nothing else, that crassness has its own spectrum.)
Sometime soon, the hoopla around Linsanity will start to collide with basketball realities: what will happen when Lin isn’t leading the Knicks in scoring–or, more pointedly, when he has a bad game? What if the Knicks don’t even make the playoffs? How will Lin and his fans react when the time comes for him to renegotiate his contract? And how many of these new fans will be there for Lin if he chooses to seek a trade or sign with another team?
But it will be more interesting to see, should Lin’s career continue to blossom, if his career has a lingering effect: Will other skinny young Asian-American (or South Asian-American, or Mexican-American) guards start to command attention from the basketball know-it-alls, the draft analysts and game pundits who are the first to herald the Diaper Dandys, Next Big Things, et al, years before they become professionals? And if that happens, might it be possible for Lin to avoid becoming, as Bird did for years, an unwilling archetype and point of comparison for his successors?
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