The Anti-Clutch

So . . . the NBA finals are over, the Superfriends/Heatles/Irrationally-Exuberant-Premature-Celebrating-Miami-Heat have been vanquished by the long-suffering Mavericks, and all is right with the world.  And even though I know it probably interests me far more than it interests you, I can't help myself - here's an NBA finals post.  Not only is about basketball, but I plan to work in one of my usual themes: clutchiness.  Because if Dirk Nowitzki is the new god of clutch (despite a sub-par performance in the deciding game), the NBA now has a devil to his angel, the new Anticlutch, LeBron James.

I have written before that I don't believe that a player can simply "turn it on" during the playoffs or in a close game (ironically, in that post I was discussing how LeBron James was shedding his non-clutch label).  Why?  Because everyone has a certain ceiling to their skill level, and you you can't be better than you are simply because you want or need to.  I concede that perhaps being "clutch" means not shrinking from the moment and being able to maintain your top performance even when the pressure is on.  But it certainly doesn't mean willing the winning shot to go in.

That said, I have no problem believing that a player can be non-clutch (aka choke artist).  You can certainly underperform due to pressure.  And it appears that this is what James did in the finals.  The numbers speak for themselves: dismal point totals and shooting percentages in the final minutes of each game, and lackluster performances throughout.  And analysis of these games leads to the conclusion that it was largely a lack of aggressiveness on James' part that resulted in the poor play.  He drove to the basket and went inside less often, and shot from outside more often.  Given that the latter is a lower-percentage conversion, it's no surprise his performance faltered.

Here is a great case of a fairly certain case of choking.  I complain louder than most that people tend to look at small samples of sports performance and draw unwarranted conclusions.  A-Rod has been labeled a poor playoff performer for most of his career largely because his batting average was weighed down by one 3-for-31 streak early in his postseason experience.  That's an anomaly, a stastical quirk that will happen (but when it happens during the scrutiny of the playoffs, is magnified).  It is hard to argue that James' performance was a statistical freak occurrence, given that the manner in which he played (i.e. the types of shots he took) changed.  Why?  Who knows.  LeBron probably doesn't even know.

There is a concept in the academic study of sports (slogan: We Take Out All the Fun!) called "win pressure."  In the playoffs win pressure is heightened, and in special cases it is very, very high.  For example, the concept was initially developed as a way to explain why home teams tend to lose closeout games of playoff series.  The pressure to win is greater at home (to not disappoint the fans), leading to fewer wins.  Why does this happen?  Because when you are under greater stress, you begin to scrutinize things that normally come naturally. 

An NBA player's shot is automatic.  He doesn't think about the position of his hand or his footing, because his practice and muscle memory take care of that.  But if he really needs to make his shots, he begins to think about these things, and adjusts away from the practiced, successful motion (and not focus on the non-automatic aspects of the game), leading to more misses.  Put simply, the problem is that under pressure athletes think too much (something they're rarely accused of).  In LeBron's case, he seemed to have overthought driving and scoring, leading him to not do those things and instead settled for outside shots or deferred to his teammates. 

Hey, if LeBron had been more aggressive that might not have worked either - so it's not as though they didn't win simply because of this.  But it certainly didn't help.  And now, if I were LeBron, I would spend the summer thinking about not thinking so much.