Sport is metaphor. It’s literal, of course, but the joy we take from it is metaphorical. There’s nothing inherent to putting a ball in a rim 10 feet above the ground, or a small compact hunk of rubber flying into mesh, or any other athletic endeavor distilled to its essence. In fact, it’s almost absurd plastering so much significance and money and fame onto sport when taken literally. But the grace, the community, the emotion: it comes from the symbolic meaning of what’s happening on the field of play.
That’s nothing new. We convert sports to meaning in our own heads all the time. You don’t need to read anything fancy to enjoy sports. Just watching the game is enough to know that you convert act to symbol in your own head without thinking. But expand your understanding of ‘symbolic meaning.’ Most sports writing is just describing what happens in an artful way. Basketball as chronology, basketball as poetry, basketball as music. The medium -- the prism -- is the message.
Anything can be description, can be symbol. So why not boats?
That’s right. This week, the triumphant return of Minute Basketball, we’re describing players as boats. Because it’s fun, and because we realized we have a lot of boat anecdotes saved up between us. So strap in, and let’s get nautical.
Zatzman
Kyle Lowry as Depth Charge
If there’s ever been an NBA player that was a robot in disguise, it was surely Kyle Lowry. The man is a shapeshifter -- or, hey, a transformer -- on the court, able to mold himself into anything a team needs to win. He can play on the ball as a scorer or a creator for others. He can play off the ball as a floor-spacer, a screener, or a decoy. He can spark stampedes in transition, or he can play slow and dig into the halfcourt like a gold mine.
For half a decade, Lowry was the scoring co-star alongside DeMar DeRozan. He looked for his own shot, thrived with bench units, and led the Raptors to 50 wins after 50 wins. Then when the Raptors traded for Kawhi Leonard, Lowry became a connective piece between Leonard and new scoring phenom Pascal Siakam. Lowry’s usage rate, scoring, and shot attempts dwindled, as his assists skyrocketed.
On the other end, Lowry could defend the point of attack either as a primary on guards or wings, and he has long been one of the most competent guards when asked to switch onto a big. He can defend the rim with verticality or by taking a charge. In playoff series, he’s been Toronto’s primary defender on scorers as diverse as Jayson Tatum (2019-20) or JJ Reddick (2018-19).
Lowry is whatever you want him to be. That’s more than any boat, really. But the closest thing is a transformer, and when I checked, there was a boat transformer with the word ‘charge’ in its name. A match made in heaven.
Kevin Durant as the Palladium
One summer I worked at the Thousand Islands National Park as a social research assistant. It was through the Federal Student Work Exchange Program (FSWEP! Hell yeah), and I lived in Brockville (Brockville! Hell no). It was a fairly low-key summer.
But one day when I was on the water, I saw the biggest yacht I’d ever seen. I’m from Halifax, so I’d frequently seen cruise ships that dwarfed the Titanic. But I’d never before seen a vessel owned by one person that was so long. It must have been 40 feet long, or 50! It seemed to be headed towards a planetary body of some kind that must have been a trick of the eye, was perhaps the moon reflected in the water but magnified. But -- that’s no moon! -- then I realized that the biggest yacht I’d ever seen was in fact docking inside of another yacht.
That second yacht belonged to Mikhail Prokhorov, then the owner of the Brooklyn Nets. (We’re creeping towards Kevin Durant slowly here, you see.) I believe that the yacht I saw was the Palladium, which is actually modest in length, as far as superyachts go, though it is famous for having perhaps the most futuristic design of all superyachts (seriously!).
Durant fits the bill. He is symbolically larger than the Brooklyn Nets, the planetary object within which the other fine yachts of the organization moor. The circus that is … everything in the NBA can only be perceived in Brooklyn through the prism of Durant. And though there are physically larger players, there is no one more futuristic.
Ben Simmons as Ever Given
Process, interrupted.
Folk
LeBron James as a Pontoon
The pontoon boat and LeBron James are the same for this exact reason: they are the simplest way possible in their respective realms to carry many people or teammates. James famously carried good teams and bad to 8 straight Finals appearances - truly the pontoon of team building.
What is there left to do if you’re a GM, a president of basketball operations, and James arrives at your teams doorstep? Naturally, you try to find the players that will help deliver a championship, but what ideas does James have? Left to his own team building devices, James curates a team in his specific vision. Coordinated outfits? Close friends? Alcohol? James’ locker room has all the trappings of a pontoon boat. It’s no coincidence that James and his closest NBA pals look most at home when frequenting floats on a parade - particularly of the championship variety.
Anytime I was able to go to a lake when I was a child, the biggest boats I saw were always of the pontoon variety. I always thought they were a signifier of great wealth. Of course, this means that I had little to no experience with boats. I wasn’t ever near the coast like Louis, I didn’t even swim in the ocean until I was an adult. But, when I look at the NBA, I see James as the premier example of what the NBA is both in terms of playstyle and marketability. He is the great bastion of wealth and good times, which is what the pontoon was for young Samson.
36 years old and nearly 37, James continues to carry the Lakers firmly on his back. Opening up the season to the tune of 34 points, 11 rebounds, 5 assists on a meaty True Shooting of 66-percent. Pushing the Lakers ahead, even as Russell Westbrook posted a ludicrous on/off net rating of -72.9.
Not to mention the first pontoon boat ever made was called “The Empress”, and naturally that fits quite well with “King James”.
Rajon Rondo as a Dinghy
A complete departure from the team he joins. He is meant to operate specifically as a lifeboat or means of conveyance to and from what the team actually wants to do. A short spurt of basketball that is completely divorced from your teams usual playstyle? Insert Rondo as a plug in, who brings with him a completely separate utility. Have you or your team ever wondered what it would look like if everyone on your team stood around and suddenly a backdoor pass gave you 2 points? Would those 2 points be even better if your offense had grinded to a halt and you wanted to lighten the load on your shot-creators? Of course. Is it even better if he’ll get a heady steal and if he’s shooting 40-percent on his last 100 playoff 3-point attempts? Yes. Enter Rajon Rondo, who has oscillated from the Lakers, to the Hawks, to the Clippers, and back to the Lakers - with the same allure for all 3 teams across all 4 stints.
Rondo is a dinghy. His feel for basketball (and connect-four) is supposed to make him the ultimate portable guard. An antidote to Trae Young’s free-wheeling game? Sure. Some semblance of point guard play next to the uber-wing heavy Clippers? Absolutely (although, Reggie Jackson took that and ran with it). A presence on the court to deliver on-point entry passes to Anthony Davis and occasionally hit a three that the defense is extremely eager to give him.
Oftentimes, Rondo seems like a boat on a boat. A player who needs the ball, next to other players that need the ball. However, like a dinghy, when you’re in need of him he seems essential.
Kyle Kuzma as the Amphibious Exploring Vehicle
A starter car! Kyle Kuzma is a finisher car! A transporter of Gods! The GOLDEN GOD! I AM UNTETHERED AND MY RAGE KNOWS NO BOUNDS!
Okay, so this is by no means the fault of Kuzma. He is a victim of the optics and the heavy expectations placed on him by Lakers fans. He was a future All-Star, the heir-apparent to the real hoopers and bucket-getters in a long lineage of those types for the Lakers. An equal to Jayson Tatum as a basketball prospect. Unabashed pull-ups, sweeping hooks in the lane, and 16 points per game in his rookie year allowed Lakers fans to indulge deeply into delusions of grandeur, as they are wont to do.
Fast forward to this past summer, where the Lakers were reportedly trying to offload Kuzma in numerous trade packages. Tossing his name out there repeatedly to see what would come back only to scream: “BE GONE FROM ME!” when teams rightfully point out that he isn’t a superstar (or that the car is underwater). In the end, the only trade that could be made that involved Kuzma was one that involved another player who is more superstar in name than in actuality - Russell Westbrook. It’s perfect, really.
Bonus: The Nick Nurse boat
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