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| Short Career for a Tall Man |
Remember when we just couldn’t wait to see what this Chinese import could do on American soil? What this seemingly endless mass of limbs and length that had an unimaginable array of skills for such a gargantuan human being was capable of? And yet, at the age of 30, it seems we have forgotten about Yao Ming before he ever really got started. With the recent announcement that he will retire, I can’t help but feel cheated over what could have been a Hall of Fame career.
Ming’s rookie year gave us a taste of his capabilities and also his potential pitfalls. He averaged an impressive 14 points, 9 rebounds, and 2 blocks per game in just 29 minutes of play. Unfortunately when one is a foot and a half larger than the average man walking the streets, injuries are common, and Yao missed ten games due to various ailments.
Yet Yao rebounded with a sophomore season that left us all thinking, “We have an heir apparent to Shaquille O’Neal. And not just that, we have a player who can battle Shaq while he’s still in his prime!” In the ’03-’04 campaign Yao played every single regular season game and posted 18 points, 9 rebounds, and 2 blocks per game. We got just what we wanted to see: big statistical leaps and a full, healthy season.
He followed his second year with a statistically similar third year, and at that point we all just knew, if nothing else, we had a perennial All-Star who could stay on the court. (He played 80 games in year three).
Then came Yao’s fourth year and he really started to produce. 22 points, 10 rebounds, 2 blocks every night. These were Tim Duncan numbers…until he got injured and missed the final twenty-five games of the regular season.
We weren’t worried. The man just played two full healthy seasons; this is just an aberration injury.
The following year at age 26, Yao snatched our attention and became, for a time, the best center in the league, perhaps even the leading MVP candidate, netting 25 points, 9 rebounds, and 2 blocks per game. Everything was coming together. Unstoppable, Ming was too large for most anyone to guard and too skilled for anyone big enough for the task. Then, tragically, it happened again; Yao got injured. After playing the best forty-eight games of his career, Yao missed the rest of the season to injury.
Now doubt creeps in. Was it really possible for a man seven and a half feet tall and over 300 pounds to play 82 basketball games every year and continue into the playoffs? The sheer thought seems ludicrous, and yet Yao had baited us with such skill and a few fully healthy years, we were all bought up in Yao Ming stock.
The 2008-2009 season signaled a return to prominence of sorts for the unlucky giant. He played 77 regular season games and put up good numbers—20 points, 10 boards—but was then injured in the Western Conference Semifinals against the Lakers, an injury that would not only cost Yao the rest of the postseason, but the entire following season as well. And ultimately this injury, which seemed relatively minor at the time, would essentially signal the end of the road for Yao.
After a full year off to rehab and rest his various ailments, namely issues with his feet, we thought perhaps Yao would be ready to attack this past season with a clean bill of health, and a strict minutes regiment imposed by the Houston coaching staff to lessen the strain. Playing less than twenty minutes a night, the thought was that the Rockets could manage Yao’s health and allow him to work his body back into top form. This plan lasted just five games until Ming re-injured his foot and was once again done for the year, and subsequently, for his career.
In the last four years Yao played 185 regular season games out of a possible 328.
The really sad thing is this wasn’t a Greg Oden situation where the guy really never got on the court and never put up solid numbers. Yao had proven that when healthy he could be one of the single most dominant forces in the NBA. In a league deprived of quality centers, Yao could have had the most substantial positional advantage in basketball for the bulk of his career.
Instead we are left with nothing but a list of questions. How good could this guy have been? He’s only 30; does he really have to retire? Is it possible for a man his size to have a long and healthy career? Would a healthy Yao have changed NBA history, altered the course of who would be crowned champion each year?
This is what we are left to ponder, an unfortunate array of what-ifs about one of the most humble, talented, and entertaining players we’ve seen in the past decade. It’s a common theme in sports, huge talents that just can’t stay healthy: Bo Jackson, Brandon Roy, Bob Sanders, Tracy McGrady, Grant Hill, and the list goes on.
As common as this theme is, it never gets any easier to accept. We can’t get away from what could have been. We tend to see sports as a controlled universe where things can be predicted, projected, and expected. But sports, just like life, are fluid. There are bumps in the road, unexpected twists, surprising highs, and disappointing lows.
Yao is just another case in the dumb luck of sports. Some guys play their whole careers without a serious injury; others like Ming can hardly muster a full season. Fair isn’t a part of life, and it’s not a part of sports, but it’s a damn shame when you lose out on seeing a talent like Ming tap his mammoth potential.
--from @AdamHocking
(image from flickr.com)
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