Volume Playmaking

How collective passing has fueled a basketball revolution

Photo by Marius Christensen on Unsplash

Those of you who grew up playing organized basketball, how often did you hear “it’s a team game” or “nothing moves faster than the ball”? They felt inevitable. At least once a practice, a coach or two would lecture you on the importance of ball movement. As it stands today, the reality is, they were right. At least, they were regarding the highest level of basketball: the National Basketball Association.

To win a championship in the modern NBA, a franchise has two options: acquire an all-time great two-way player or finish in the top five in assist percentage. Of the last 20 Finals teams, 10 finished in the top five in assist percentage. Of those 10, six won the Finals. As for the other 10 teams to make the Finals? Six had LeBron James, one had Kawhi Leonard, and one had Giannis Antetokounmpo.

It wasn’t always like this, though. Not too long ago, isolation basketball ruled the landscape. From 2000 to 2010, only four of the 20 Finals teams finished in the top five in assist percentage. Of those four, none won the Finals. The formula was simple: find the best player, a better best player than the rest of the league (easy enough, right?), give him the ball, and get out of the way. Oddly enough, isolation basketball did win championships.

That said, not everyone was satisfied with this style of play. More specifically, down in the desert, the Phoenix Suns were toying with the fabric of basketball. Led by Steve Nash and Mike D’Antoni, the Suns played an entirely new brand of basketball. They flew up and down the court with speed and precision. Nash orchestrated an offense that felt like one long fast break (especially for the time), as Phoenix aimed to take the first available good shot every single time. This decisiveness supercharged their offense, as they became the first team since the Stockton-Malone Jazz to lead the league in both Offensive Rating and finish top five in assist percentage.

Those Phoenix teams were on the cutting edge of basketball, a fun, team-oriented revolution. Unfortunately, for a multitude of reasons, some within their control and some entirely outside of it, they never made it past the Western Conference Finals. It began in 2004–05, when the Suns knocked on the right door, five years too early. Phoenix blitzed teams offensively, flying up and down the court with a variety of athletic two-way players (Amar’e Stoudemire, Shawn Marion, Raja Bell, a young Joe Johnson), with a lightning-paced genius orchestrating the show. Unfortunately, they ran into Tim Duncan at the peak of his powers, which is a tall task for anyone. The Suns fell in six games. But that was fine. This was the first year of the great experiment. It wasn’t supposed to show immediate results, only potential, and it displayed more than its fair share of that.

The next year, Phoenix wanted nothing more than another chance with essentially the same team (minus Joe Johnson). Unfortunately, they would be without one key piece of their lethal pick-and-roll tandem: Amar’e Stoudemire. To their credit, Phoenix patched things up quite well in the big man’s absence. The trio of Boris Diaw, Tim Thomas, and Kurt Thomas mitigated the damage with their unique combinations of strengths and weaknesses. They finished the year 54–28, securing the 2nd seed in the West (some oddities with NBA seeding rules factored into play).

The San Antonio Spurs were out of their way, thanks to the Dallas Mavericks. Unfortunately, that now meant the Mavericks were in their way. From one all-time great forward to another. Similarly at the peak of his powers, Dirk Nowitzki powered the Mavericks past the Suns in six games as well.

The year after, the goal was clear: win the conference title and reach the Finals. The season began with the precision of a surgeon. The Suns wasted no time dicing up opposing defenses, en route to a 61–21 record, miraculously still only good for 2nd in the West due to the dominance of the Mavericks.

It may have felt like déjà vu for a moment, but it wasn’t. The Mavs were upset by the “We Believe” Warriors in a shocking first-round upset. And if the Suns were to play the other titan of the West, Tim Duncan and the Spurs, it would be in the conference semifinals, not the Finals. That meant one thing: there was a window.

Sure enough, after a first-round 4–1 thrashing of Kobe and the Lakers, the Suns met that all-too-familiar foe. They were on the verge of securing a Game 4 victory to tie the series at 2–2 when disaster struck.

Up 100–97, with the ball in their composer’s hand, Robert Horry shoved Nash into the scorer’s table. Raja Bell attempted to mediate but was restrained by his teammates. Unfortunately, amidst the scramble, two key forwards, Amar’e Stoudemire and Boris Diaw, stood up from the bench. In a shocking move, the NBA suspended both Stoudemire and Diaw for the following playoff game.

At that point, the air went out of the balloon, so to speak. The Suns put up a good fight, but it was over. The next year, they lost to the Spurs once more in the playoffs, resulting in the dismissal of Mike D’Antoni. After a subpar season under Terry Porter, Alvin Gentry took over, and the Suns took one deep breath before the final stand.

Amar’e had had public difficulties negotiating an extension, and there was a mutual understanding, if it didn’t happen this year, it might be time to move on.

The Suns finished 54–28 once again, securing the 3rd seed instead of their usual 2nd. The playoffs began with a tougher-than-expected series against Portland, ending in a 4–2 win. In the second round, the Spurs stood in their way once more. But this time, they weren’t the same Spurs. It wasn’t the same Tim Duncan.

The Suns ran them out of the building in a 4–0 sweep. There was one hurdle left: a rejuvenated Kobe Bryant with a capable supporting cast.

Once more, against an all-time great, the Suns were highly competitive. The series was tied at 2–2, leading to a pivotal Game 5 in LA. Tied 101–101 with seconds remaining, Kobe Bryant had the ball. The Suns knew the stakes.

They defended it perfectly. Grant Hill contested the shot, Bryant missed everything. But the ball landed in the hands of Ron Artest/Metta World Peace, who put it back up. Game over. The Lakers went on to win Game 6 and, eventually, another NBA championship.

It was over.

That offseason, Amar’e Stoudemire left for New York, marking the end of the Suns as we knew them.

But it wouldn’t be the death of their ideology.

A surprising protégé had been taking notes: the San Antonio Spurs.

By 2014, the Spurs fully adopted the Suns’ style, volume playmaking, ball movement, and pace. They tore defenses apart and dethroned the Miami Heat’s Big Three, winning their fifth championship.

At the same time, Steve Kerr, former GM of the 7-seconds-or-less Suns, was hired to coach an unconventional backcourt of Stephen Curry and Klay Thompson. He merged their superhuman shooting abilities with the Suns’ philosophy, and found even greater success.

From that moment on, the blueprint was set.

Since the 2014 Spurs title, 10 of the last 20 Finals teams finished in the top five in assist percentage. Six of them won it all. As for the teams that didn’t? They had LeBron, Kawhi, or Giannis.

For NBA GMs, that leaves two choices: acquire an all-time great two-way player or share the ball.

One is doable. The other? A miracle.

I couldn’t tell you exactly what allowed this basketball evolution. But if I had to point to something, I’d say, it’s the evolution of role players.

Stars would likely be stars in any era, but in any era other than the present, players like Aaron Gordon, Naz Reid, and Norman Powell are likely at a premium. In today's day and age, talent decorates rosters like a Tim Burton fan decorates for Halloween. That is to say, it is everywhere.

In light of this, there is one pragmatic and achievable option: volume playmaking.