Dear Mr Dwight Howard
My opinion probably doesn't mean much to you. I am, after all, just a young man with a computer. You are a young man with impossibly built shoulders. You signed a contract in 2007 worth $80 million. I've earned about $13,000 frying chicken and slicing meat in a deli. You bench press 315 pounds for reps. I'm proud of my 20 pound arm raises. I tower over my coworkers, at 6'3. You tower over considerably taller coworkers at 7'0. An entire city is currently relying on you to lead their basketball team. I'm mostly relied upon by my dog, who needs me to let her out to take a dump in the yard after eating breakfast.
But I feel like I could advise you on this. You see, I can't imagine you have a whole lot of time in your busy schedule to take a look at the teams you will be considering in your upcoming free agency. I mean, look at you. Most of your free time appears to either be spent in the weight room, or in places of less reputable muscle-building nature. But I'm in denial about the possibility of steroid use in basketball, so let's move past that.
When you aren't pumping your body full of muscle, you are making shoe ads for Adidas, reminding us that Fast Don't Lie. How can someone like you be expected to watch other teams perform throughout the year?
Which is why I'm here for you, with a warning. See, I don't have a life. I watch more basketball than is probably healthy for me. I think about it too much, too. I analyze, I write, I read, I nerd out. You are the subject, I am the student. And in my studies, I've learned that one of your possible destinations is the Los Angeles Lakers.
I can understand the attraction. Look at the big man who ruled Orlando before you. Shaq bolted from Orlando to LA to play with Kobe and ended up with these. Plus, it's Hollywood. Right now, in Orlando, your most famous fan is a disgraced golfer who ruined his wife's thanksgiving right before she ruined his SUV with a golf club. In Hollywood, your most famous fans would be...well, let's see...Jack Nicholson and Denzel Washington? No biggie.
But let me tell you, Dwight. I've watched the Lakers. I've watched you. And I have to say...I think the Lakers are a baaaad fit for you.
A starting lineup featuring you, Kobe Bryant, and Pau Gasol sounds amazing on paper. And two years ago, this is roughly what the relationship between Pau Gasol and Kobe Bryant looked like. Aww. They look so happy together. This absolutely looks like the kind of place you would want to be. But now? This is more of what we are seeing in Laker-land. Multiple times this year, Gasol has questioned Kobe's decision making, saying publicly that he needs more touches, and Kobe needs to stop taking so many long jumpshots. Kobe has responded...well...by taking more long jumpshots. Come playoff time, this team very well might turn it around. As a matter of fact, I think they will. But is it worth being miserable for 82 games in the regular season to play the second or third banana on a contending team? You are better than that, Dwight.
Watch a Laker game sometime. Count how many times you actually see Gasol crack a smile. It's extremely rare (although if you are lucky, you might get a sweet shot of his armpits). And Dwight, smiling is what you do! That's one of the things that makes you so refreshing as a basketball player, you seem incredibly self aware. You KNOW you are built like freaking Zeus. You KNOW your girlfriend is so hot, she could be the reason the ice caps are melting (all the more reason to stay out of LA...keep her away from Kobe!). You KNOW you are set for life on the salary you will make this year alone. You KNOW if you keep this up, you are likely headed for the Hall of Fame. You have it good...so you smile! It's wonderful. And Kobe will beat that out of you with a crowbar.
Here's another thing about LA: their point guard situation is a little bit desperate. Derek Fisher was a mediocre point guard in his prime. Dwight, the man is 35 years old. He is no spring chicken in NBA years. You need a team with a flashy young point guard, someone who can run the floor with you and toss you alleyoops for 48 minutes, while the crowd exults. You need someone willing to be the second banana, the Ringo to your McCartney, the Tubbs to your Crockett, the Gore to your Clinton. You need someone who wants to shine in your show, while still realizing it's your show.
You need Chris Paul.
Yes. You need to go where Chris Paul goes. You will both be free agents at the same time. You are both friendly, and have been for years. You are both young and hyperathletic. Chris has the best court sense of any player in the league. But you and Paul present the best chance of deep playoff runs in addition to boosting your own legacy. It's a good fit for him too...he needs a big post player to rack up his assist totals to a level he deserves, which he isn't getting in New Orleans. Add any halfway decent perimeter player, and believe me, they will be flocking to play with Chris Paul, and just like that you have a contender. Boom. It's a perfect match. It just works.
There is one other place that might work well for you. Boston.
For starters, there's Rajon Rondo. A flashy young point guard, much flashier than Chris Paul, actually. A team whose main focus is on defense. A team who keeps defeating yours in the regular season AND the playoffs. Hey, if you can't beat them, join them, right? Believe me, the first time you blocked a shot into the second row, as you tend to do too often, a teammate will be in your face about it. And you won't do it again. You will be blocking shots and keeping them in bounds. You will become the most destructive defensive force in the NBA since Bill Russell, who was just awarded the Medal of Freedom by President Obama, and who won 11 championships in his 13 NBA years.
Not a bad set of footprints to follow in, if you ask me.
Of course, there is one possibility I haven't mentioned. Chris Paul might go to Los Angeles as well. If he does, it would make a frightening amount of sense for you to head West. And I'll be sitting here in my room, with my computer and my dog, doing my damndest to divorce this sport.
Maybe I should send a letter to Chris as well.
Yours sincerely,
Tom Westerholm
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