Lowe: Morant’s instant impact, the sad-trombone Pistons and the rookie who would like your attention
In the last nine things I liked and disliked of 2023, we look at why the Memphis Grizzlies are back on track with Ja Morant, how the Detroit Pistons are on the verge of becoming basketball’s Zippy Chippy and why the Charlotte Hornets should be happy with Brandon Miller‘s play so far.
Morant will not give his harshest critics what they want — submissive humility and cosmetic change they can point to and say, “The young man gets it now.” He is going to talk trash and dance after game-clinching shots, and it is not for me to litigate whether Morant’s brief dance after his game-icing dunk against the New Orleans Pelicans on Tuesday — the team’s third stirring comeback since Morant’s return, and second in New Orleans — featured a (very) brief gun gesture or was merely Morant taunting the crowd with a popular local dance.
(Would it be better for Morant to not allow for any confusion? Of course. The league appears indifferent, having issued no statement.)
Morant’s father, Tee, is still courtside, standing and cheering. Tee Morant told SiriusXM NBA Radio last week that the family has made no changes to Morant’s “inner circle.”
Morant won’t cut off childhood friends or boot his father from courtside seats. Could you? Does it matter? The only thing that matters is whether Morant and that inner circle stop doing the things that forced the NBA’s hand in suspending Morant 25 games.
That is an enormous cost, to Morant and the franchise he is supposed to steward. In four games with Morant, the Grizzlies reminded everyone what they were on track to be. (Morant missed Memphis’ blowout loss to the Denver Nuggets on Thursday with an illness.) As is, they are 10-20. They need to go to 31-21 to reach .500 — where the No. 10 Phoenix Suns are now. It’s possible. The margin for error and injury is zero. No team is so young and so good that it can punt an entire season. If this ends up a wasted year, it will be Morant’s fault. That is a permanent stain.
Change comes away from cameras and phones. It manifests in the absence of things. We will know what is happening only with time, or if Morant slips again.
It’s a fine balance to strike — changing without losing the bravado that makes Morant who he is on the court. There, he is unassailable. The Grizzlies need Morant’s sneering arrogance, the belief he can beat anyone, anytime. It emboldens them. They assume his personality. They believe Morant can take them places they can’t reach without him. The best part of Morant’s on-court superstardom is how inclusive it is. He waves teammates to run with him, gives up the ball when he senses someone needs it more, cuts hard, takes charges. (His overall defense needs work.)
Despite so much time away — despite Memphis missing so many rotation players — Morant instantly transformed the Grizzlies into a coherent offensive team. In a blink, they had their identity back. Their pace, free throws, shots at the rim, corner 3s and accuracy on floaters — remember, this was Team Floater — jumped way up.
In a week, he made every signature Morant play. The game winner in his return was one of those implausible shots in which different parts of Morant’s body appear to be moving in different directions and at different speeds. He drove left, spun right, jumped back left — leaning to his left in midair, his defender still flying the other way — and plopped in a floater. He is ungraspable.
When he zooms forward and then suddenly spins away for his step-back, Morant in that moment of directional change resembles one of those freeze-frame photos in which the fast-moving subject — car, sprinter, whatever — extends into a blur in every direction.
