Chrysalis

 

The world was in a different place in 2020. A global pandemic reached critical mass, disrupting all corners of society. Schools and stores stood empty, inequalities were laid bare, and social distancing became the uneasy norm. In March, the NBA suspended operations, thus triggering a seismic shift in sports culture writ large. Four months later, a bold and unprecedented experiment was unveiled; a playoff biosphere known as the Disney Bubble.

Hindsight hasn’t been too kind to the resulting title fight. Perhaps it’s one and the same with the entire Covid era, thoroughly polarized, debated and even dismissed as politicized fakery. But the resulting July to October NBA spectacle—isolated from live attendance and choreographed within the secure confines of Disney’s ESPN Wide World of Sports campus—was highly innovative, wildly ambitious and wholly improbable. The Los Angeles Lakers ultimately beat the Miami Heat in six games in front of a pixilated, mosaic-like crowd of virtual fans. Some called it an asterisk championship. I thought it was brilliant.

The last remaining vestige of the Lakers 2020 championship squad exited stage left this summer with LeBron James taking his larger than life talents somewhere as yet to be revealed, for what either will or will not be his final chapter. The team moved ahead with a wholesale rebuild around franchise centerpiece Luka Dončic’ and his boy wonder sidekick Austin Reaves, the latter now armed with a $180 million max contract.

Only two members of the current roster were at Orlando World in 2020. Dončic’ was in his sophomore season with the Mavs, lighting it up on his way to the All-Bubble First Team, while Matisse Thybulle was a rookie for the 76ers, chronicling his adventures via a clever YouTube vlog. Lakers vet Jarred Vanderbilt was with the Timberwolves at the time and didn’t advance to the Disney playoffs. The same goes for free agency additions Kevon Looney (Warriors) and Collin Sexton (Cleveland).

The youth-driven summer remake has been highlighted by Walker Kessler, a 7’2” generational talent who was acquired in a sign and trade from the Utah Jazz. Other signees include Sandro Mamukelashvili, Quentin Grimes, Jaden Hardy and Ziaire Willams. Free agent Jonathan Kuminga remains the subject of relentless speculation; his last gasp aspirations tangentially linked to James’ languid decision process.

Baylor guard Cameron Carr was arguably the steal of the 2026 draft class, selected by the Lakers as the 24th overall pick after they moved up a spot. Carr along with sophomore forward Adou Thiero showed out spectacularly at the Las Vegas NBA Summer League, as did forward Arthur Kaluma who subsequently grabbed one of the team’s two-way contracts.

Forward Jake LaRavia, and guards Bronny James and Dalton Knecht still remain from last year’s team in a lineup that now stands at 16 guaranteed contracts – one over the league maximum. With summer free agency in its last throes, there will still be necessary moves around the fringes heading into training camp. But if there is one overarching takeaway from all the machinations, it’s that Lakers management has charted an aggressive course toward a young and athletic, switch-happy system replete with pick-and-roll lob threats and floor spacing bombs from way downtown. There’s depth, talent and the likelihood of stiff competition for second unit minutes.

Searching for Slava sputtered to life in 2010, a microblog inspired by an allegorical search for an elusive shot-chucker from the Ukraine who returned home to a war torn country after his erratic NBA journey ended. It was a time of existential hoops musings, with FreeDarko, Ball Don’t Lie, Hardwood Paroxysm, the Basketball Jones and other worthy roundball journals charting lofty orbits. All this as a small blue bird was finding its uncertain social media wings. There was community in the large and diverse collection of hoops sites numbering far more than those listed above. Most have since fallen by the wayside. My own byzantine rabbit holes were less about analysis and more about the odd journeys of NBA mavericks like Adam Morrison and Robert Swift, along with my inexplicable urge to fictionalize Craig Sager and his love for blended synthetic textiles.

Somehow, this weird blogspot indulgence picked up a quarter-million views before edging into the breakdown lane and finally refusing to budge. The last post was four years ago, delving into an origin story about Medvedenko and the first days of the Ukraine war. I have a file folder of stops and starts since then, but nothing past a paragraph or two.

Seasons come and seasons go, and sometimes there's a moment that feels renewed. The Lakers could have run it back after advancing to the second round of the 2026 playoffs on the broad shoulders of James (Dončic’ was out with a hamstring injury and Reaves similarly missed most of it). But instead, the bandage was ripped off and a process of new growth began. “Unceasing change turns the wheels of life, and so reality is shown in all its many forms,” as Phil Jackson was fond of saying.

The dog days of summer are upon us, bringing triple-digit heat and the drone of cicadas. Somewhere a car floats around a corner, music bumps in the background, onions and peppers curl in a hot skillet and the aroma of piney hops wafts from a long neck beer. We want our moments back, some things you never outgrow.

The search continues. Chrysalis is here.

LeBron James and the summer of the Lakers’ content…or discontent

Dear Laker Stans,

Your team began its offseason by drafting a couple of intriguing floor-stretchers and then signed LeBron James—aka the World’s Best Player—on a 3+1 deal.

Yeah, you let Julius Randle go but you kept a potent young core in Brandon Ingram, Lonzo Ball, Kyle Kuzma and Josh Hart. Plus, KCP is back in the fold at a discount. Hooray!

Additionally, three veteran role players are on board in Rajon Rondo, JaVale McGee and Lance Stephenson. Two of the three knuckleheads own rings, one is a three-time assists leader and one is nicknamed “Born Ready.”

You’re not yet over the cap, you’ll have cash to spend next year, you didn’t give up any future picks and your glut of meaningful rookie contracts mean you’re financially well-positioned for years to come. 

So why the long faces; the gnashing of teeth; the panicky outcries and lighting of creosote torches?

Apparently, because the front office didn’t see fit to trade its best young assets for Kawhi Leonard and his degenerating quad, nor did they invest in Boogie Cousins’ shredded Achilles.

Meanwhile, all of NBA fandom—not just the Lakers—has declared next season to be over before it even begins. Because, naturally, the Golden State Warriors who had until now been casually chilling in their championship afterglow, took a moment to toss the MLE at Cousins (when nobody else would), knowing full well that he might not actually play, or that he might not play well.

Back-to-back champions can afford to do that. A rebuilding team fresh off five losing seasons—and who finally, incongruously, hit the honeypot with LeBron—can-not-and-should-not-do-that.

Nonetheless, there is a sizable contingent of soothsayers—armed with empirical data and abstract dot-connecting—that is tilting at the interwebs in the firm belief that Rondo’s flameout in Dallas four years ago, or Stephenson’s wild inconsistency and/or character issues, or JaVale’s limited yet effective 9.5 minutes per game last season (including starting three-out-of-four in the Finals) somehow impinges disproportionately on LeBron’s consistent greatness and will, in fact, send everything hopelessly spinning down the drainage hole of oblivion. Also inherent in the doom-and-gloom scenario is a belief that too many playmakers and not enough firing power is at stark odds with the modern-day game.

But as ESPN’s Brian Windhorst and Ramona Shelburne write, all of the memes and jokes may actually be part of the Lakers’ master plan: a blueprint for a superstar to age successfully.

What if somewhere in a parallel universe—a place where palm trees gently sway and every day is the perfect temperature, where limos glide past homeless encampments and ultra-fit bodies scamper up dusty canyon trails—the Los Angeles Lakers actually wind up having a semi-awesome season? Sure, there may be cringe-worthy moments here and there, and probably too many game that are won based on James’ inherent greatness overcoming the opposition while his teammates stand and stare (not that Laker fans have ever witnessed such a thing before, centering around any other geriatric franchise superstars). But the overall idea remains that entertainment abounds and wins happen more frequently than not. For good measure, let’s also toss in all the unexpected injuries, losing streaks, winning streaks and general force majeure that are part of the long NBA season and life itself.

The locusts swarm of free agency began at midnight Saturday EST, blazed furiously for a few hours, took a Sunday morning pause and then went supernova that evening with LeBron’s signing. It was the beginning of the end of meaningful money deals—roughly 90 percent of all free agent spending occurred within a 24-hour-period, yet the majority of actual free agents are still in limbo, unsigned and uncertain of what comes next.

And if the undulating nature of Laker fandom—the long faces and teeth-gnashing and creosote torches on one side, offset by optimism and joy from the other—had blazed so fiercely during the initial spasm of free agency, Monday and Tuesday brought a more temperate rehashing of issues and analysis, and a barely existent trickle of players being signed to table scraps. By July 4, traditionally a hot time for the basketball marketplace, attention had drifted away to hotdog-eating contests and a woman scaling the Statue of Liberty.

At some point the Lakers will have to sign a starting center, using what’s left of their money. The odds are fairly decent that Brook Lopez will be persuaded to return back for a year at an approximate 75 percent discount. Meanwhile, Leonard’s prospects for a trade seem increasingly dim, his management having grossly misplayed its hand. At least he’s still collecting a max contract for not playing.

A holiday comes to a close and a new workday is about to begin. And life slowly restores its balance, like ebbing ripples from a skipping stone. The start of the NBA regular season is only 105 days away.

THEY'RE PROGRAMMED TO DESTROY US

Increasingly despondent in recent days, David Stern decided to blow up the league. Sources close to the commissioner are painting a grim picture of the once respected chief executive of the National Basketball Association. Future plans are on hold until he finishes gutting himself and anyone foolish enough to approach.

Recently taken to drinking creme de menthe and listening to Joy Division, the commissioner vetoed a three-way trade that would have brought Chris Paul to the Lakers, packed a depleted Hornets roster with legitimate starters, and bolstered a sagging Houston front line. Riding a wave of bewilderment, Stern did it again last night, this time blocking a proposal that was spoon-fed to his naive demand for younger players. The Lakers pulled out and sent Lamar Odom to the World Champion Mavericks who were in obvious need of charity. Pressed for comment, Mark Cuban reportedly shrugged and said, “rock star!”

Lamar Odom’s been much maligned for not showing up to a training camp that didn’t want him. He hasn’t been a happy camper and I honestly can’t blame him. Perhaps being on another championship roster will ease the sting. Ironically, it’s the same team that swept his beloved Lakers in the second round last season. As for Mr. Stern, associates report that he was last seen strapping himself to an atomic bomb and hurtling toward earth - leaving his stool at the Mt. Olympus Boom-Boom Room, bereft of soft fleshy warmth.

My father, an abstract painter, didn’t allow television in the house. He felt it distracted from the creative spirit or some such. My brother and I finally convinced him that Jacques Cousteau specials were required homework. Dad ponied up for a minuscule Zenith, accompanied by a 2 ½ hour limit per week. Program planning in of itself, was entertainment. All was fine until my brother’s best friend Teddy Augustine, picked up what he believed to be an unloaded Daisy B-B gun and put a neat little hole in the Zenith’s screen. It was hilarious until we realized that we were once again, without television.

Free agency has been ridiculously shortened and compressed. The only hope for marginally effective execution stood with the general managers and their staffs, the lockout was not of their making or desire. Their chances depended on some modicum of autonomy and cooperation from their owners and league - the same crowd that spent much of the year devouring itself from the inside. Poor Chris Paul, to have the misfortune of belonging to the one team owned by the league. He never had a prayer.

As I write this accounting, the Lakers will be pursuing their next course of action, realigning an uncertain front court. Pau Gasol and Andrew Bynum were still here as of ten minutes ago but after that, the corp of bigs consists of Derrick Caracter, Ater Majok and Chris Daniels. Caracter has played some 200 minutes in his NBA career. Majok and Daniels only actually exist on paper. Sorry guys.

The ripple effect from David Stern’s actions will be profound. It’s easy as fans to speculate about the next-in-line trade but those in the team trenches understand a pileup on an icy freeway. There are only two weeks until opening day. The season that almost wasn’t, has already been hijacked by a man who cannot find the means to get past the players’ singular defining moment. Humiliated beyond acceptance, they sued their own league. It forced Stern and company to capitulate, and they can never get past it.

If you happened by a storefront window and peered in at the past six months, you would see a series of deliberately deconstructive actions. Whether it’s the desire to destroy the players’ union, to cancel the season in its entirety, or to simply tear at those who have the audacity to succeed, the actions don’t speak to a healthy infrastructure. It’s curious - the fans have been enthused, the players have been superb, the revenue has been robust - and this in a sagging economy. Don’t tell it to David Stern, he has waded through the landscape like a child stomping on sandcastles. And all that’s left is a nagging question - when does that insect Adam Silver get his turn?

THE SIDE BETS

Every morning at eight o'clock, a tall man with a shuffling gate stops at a cafe in the Ukrainian village of Kodra. Some days he will have a sweet cake, more often, he'll only sip a strong coffee before continuing on his way. Chronic back problems and early arthritis have taken their toll. Stanislav was once in the NBA. He was married to a beautiful Ukrainian film producer. Injuries, divorce and a series of poor investments followed. At an unheated school gymnasium, Slava shoots a worn basketball methodically, until a slight hand tremor subsides. He has been contacted by his former team. He is attempting one last comeback. None of this is true.

The Lakers do have needs. A utility big man, a shooter and a point guard. Deep into the luxury tax and severely restricted by a new collective bargaining agreement, they are combing bargain basemen bins. Veterans who don't need the money and have never played for a ring. Maverick shooters who do nothing else. Undrafted rookies. That the Lakers are in this position at all, is a miracle. The hyenas of the league, also known as hardliners, tried their hardest to kill the season. If not for the threat of federal lawsuits, they would have succeeded.

Below, in no particular order, is a list of available players that the Lakers either are, should, or should never, be looking at:

Josh McRoberts – the 6-10 utility big man would like to stay with the Pacers but they're looking to upgrade at the position. As McRoberts said, “It kind of feels like your girlfriend's gone out and is seeing if there's any better options, then they may come back to you later.”

Jason Kapono – worked out at the Lakers' El Segundo facility today. The 6-8 shooter barely left the 76ers' bench last season but he's 43.7 percent from behind the arc for his career. *Update - the Lakers have supposedly offered Kapono vet minimum for two years. You heard it here last.

Delonte West – the Lakers tried to sign the Cavs/Celtics two-guard last season. "Redz" is perhaps best known for cutting off  a cop at a high rate of speed... whilst on a 3-wheeled motorsickle. Upon investigation, a loaded shotgun and several large knives were found stashed in a guitar case strapped across his back. Loaded pistols were hidden inside his pant legs. Plus there's that Gloria James business. If he comes to L.A., hide your mothers.

Adam Morrison – he of the beastly revival in Serbia, has been let out of his Red Star Belgrade contract in order to troll free agency waters. Ammo says his first choice would be to play “somewhere in the Western Hemisphere.” Phil's gone now, Adam. C'mon back.

Grant Hill – nothing funny here. I've coveted this guy as a Laker for eons. He'd apparently prefer closing out his career with the setting Suns.

Sasha Vujacic – the Machine's a free agent after having a best-ever season with the New Jersey Nets. Oddly, the Lakers' best acquisition chip is the $5.5 million trade exemption received for swapping him for Joe Smith's corpse. Not that it could be used to get him back or that the Lakers would remotely consider a second go-round with the eyebrows from Slovenia. However, he brings unexpected depth as revealed here, last season.

Rasheed Wallace - “I'm not gonna start the game by cracking a cat in the skull if I don't get elbowed first."  I know he's retired, but still - it's 'Sheed.

A Maybach Landaulet glides up to Planet Fitness in Kyiv. A personal trainer opens the door for Slava Medvenko and his willowy assistant Mindy. Medvenko 's in the best shape of his life. He banked over ten million during his shortened career and invested in a highly-lucrative chain of salt-pork drive-throughs in the Ukarine's northern region. Slava has been contacted by his former team, the Los Angeles Lakers. I would tag this with a qualifying statement of some sort but the old dog is standing by the door with worried eyes.

I step outside. The temperature has been dropping like a rock and slanting needles of rain have arrived. Free agency is here.