If I could be anyone in the NBA for one day, I would have to choose Zach Randolph. For starters, a headband is a must. But beyond the headband, there’s something deeper within me that longs to fill Z-Bo’s shoes. Where other players use finesse and quickness to succeed in the NBA, Z-Bo’s brute strength and cavalier attitude (not to be confused with Cavalier attitude) have a strange but powerful appeal. Rebounding can be the least graceful part of the game, where bodies collide and might makes right, much like in the battles between Greek Gods long ago (or in line at your local Burger King). This blog began as an attempt to figure out what makes Zach Randolph a man among boys, a total baller with a heart of gold and a derriere of steel, boxing out men twice his size (Jerome James, who was last listed at 8’11”, 520 lbs). My hope is that, in the course of discussing the NBA, the truth (not to be confused with The Truth) about Zach Randolph’s source of dominance will be revealed to us all, but for now I can only speculate as to why Z-Bo seemingly cannot fail at anything he does.
Zach Randolph embodies the greed which can be found in the hearts of all men: to anyone who has ever wanted to take the last cookie in the jar, double park in front of the grocery store or eat dessert before dinner, Zach Randolph is the embodiment of these desires. His displays of rebounding, bucketing and generally dominating the basketball would be frowned upon anywhere else but the basketball court; He knows what he wants (rebounds and fade away jumpers) and he takes it all, boxing out the rest of the world in the process. His smile is infectious, his appeal universal, and his play on the basketball court completely uncompromising. Armed with only a headband (woven from Bill Walton’s hair, no doubt) and an unrelenting motor (a hybrid, perhaps) Zach Randolph wages war on a nightly basis against men of all shapes, and sizes. His success does not seem to stem from endless hours of “practice” (Iverson, 2002) and he is not graced with ungodly athleticism, size, or shoulders (see Dwight Howard for more on this). Instead, Zach Randolph has the most heart of anyone in the NBA (sorry Eddy Curry).
It is Z-Bo’s desire which has enabled him to prevail where so many have failed -- to overcome obstacles in high school (he finished 2nd to Jared Jeffries for the title of Indiana’s Mr. Basketball), college (saddled with Tom Izzo, a coach who would rather shoot free throws than coach his team), and the NBA (Bonzi Wells’ monopoly on headbands in the Trailblazer’s locker room). He’s not blessed with superhuman traits, but instead has taken the tools of a mortal man and transformed himself into an NBA icon. In Memphis he has found a city of blue collar workers and blues players, a city stuck behind Nashville just as Z-Bo himself was once stuck behind Eddy Curry in the post-game buffet line. Zach is done playing second fiddle (Wayman Tisdale) and is dragging his adopted home with him to the top, past the Spurs and perhaps now past the Thunder. Today we are all witnesses to the ascent of the NBA’s most unlikely hero, the undersized dynamo from Marion, Indiana who was selected behind NBA greats DeSagana Diop, Kirk Haston and Rodney White in the 2001 Draft but has outplayed them all, defying the odds. Regardless of how far the Grizzlies go in this year’s playoffs or how much English Marc Gasol learns to speak, of how crazy Tony Allen is or how overpaid Mike Conley is, one thing is clear: they can all depend on 20 points, 10 rebounds, a great headband and whole lot of hustle game in and game out from Zach Randolph, NBA Hero.
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