In his dozen NBA seasons, Tyree Ricardo “Ricky” Davis made
736 appearances for seven different teams, averaging approximately 13 points,
three rebounds, and three assists.
Drafted 21st overall by the Hornets in 1998, he entered the
league a teenager with just 825 minutes of post-high-school basketball
experience. Having barely shot 30% from
collegiate three-point range, Davis was the definition of raw. Still, given his substantial height, rugged
frame, and otherworldly athleticism, he had been effective enough at the
University of Iowa to stand out as the sort who seemed to ooze professional
potential. In retrospect, the Hornets
made an excellent selection in Davis.
The class of ’98 did yield a couple of franchise kingpins, but it also spawned
its share of disappointments, and it was top-heavy (only one All-Star selected
outside the top ten). At 21st,
Davis was one of the best on the board.
But Charlotte elected to part with their young draftee in a trade with the Heat prior
to his receipt of any significant minutes.
Upon landing in Miami, Ricky played even less, and was quickly shipped
to Cleveland. Finally, in his fifth NBA
season (second with the Cavaliers), Davis moved into the starting lineup and
demonstrated his offensive explosiveness to the tune of 20 points per
game. His surprising uptick in
production was not reflected in the win column, though. The Cavs won a mere 17 games in ‘02/03, and
such a lack of success certainly contributed to the rapid development of
Davis’s negative reputation.
No isolated incident did more damage to Ricky’s image than
his ill-conceived attempt at a triple-double.
It’s been over a decade since, in the closing moments of a rare blowout
victory, he purposely shot at his own basket, yet this lapse in judgment
remains the very first thing that comes to the average NBA fan’s mind upon
hearing the name “Ricky Davis.” Idiotic
as it was, countless players have committed far more deplorable acts and
managed to live them down. I suppose it
is, from the fan’s perspective, the humorous aspect of Davis’s act --- in
conjunction with his failure to distinguish himself as a winner --- that has
made statistical selfishness nearly synonymous with Ricky Davis.
Another of Davis’s memorable follies is depicted on the card
in question. Spectacular as it appears
in the photo, which is from a March 2004 game against the Lakers, this
particular dunk attempt was unsuccessful.
Davis recovered to score the basket, and his 24 points were second only
to Paul Pierce, but still, with his Celtics trailing a superior Lakers team,
this was not the time nor the place.
Despite this laughably regrettable decision, Davis made a
positive overall impact in Boston. Given
the typical cost of a twenty-point scorer, the Celtics had acquired him
cheaply. Obviously, they were perceived
to be taking a risk on Davis’s character, which Cleveland had deemed a threat
to the development of one LeBron James.
Additionally, Ricky had been erratic and inefficient in his play. Ultimately, Danny Ainge must’ve concluded his
‘03/04 Celtics, hovering around .500 with no secondary offensive weapon to
speak of, had little to lose.
It was in his second and only full season with the Celtics,
‘04/05, that Ricky Buckets most effectively demonstrated his value. With an improved jump shot, he had become a
threat to score from the perimeter, and his high-flying dunks and enthusiastic
antics made him a fan favorite. Thanks
in large part to Davis’s 16 PPG on 46%, the Cs went on to win the Atlantic Division
with a 45-37 record. Furthermore, though
he was far and away Boston’s second-best offensive player, Ricky surprised
detractors by embracing an off-the-bench role.
He finished second to Chicago’s Ben Gordon in the running for Sixth Man
of the Year, and I can still recall the debate over whether or not he’d been
snubbed. It was at this point that the
media, as well as coach Doc Rivers, began to speak highly of his defense. Late that season, in a 104-101 win over the
Lakers, against whom Davis missed his aforementioned between-the-legs dunk
attempt, he checked Kobe Bryant throughout one of a very few scoreless fourth
quarters in Bean’s legendary career. He
also dropped a team-high 29 points.
Though Boston would soon send Davis to Minnesota, and,
later, Minnesota to Miami, Ricky’s tendency to be traded had less to do with
his play or conduct than it did the various situations in which he landed. Each and every team Davis played for, at the
time he played for them, was in a state of flux. The Cavs sent him away as they rebuilt around
LeBron; The Celtics, headed in no discernible direction, swapped him for Wally
Szczerbiak; The Wolves were a sinking ship upon his arrival; The Heat had
Dwyane Wade get hurt and traded Shaq during his tenure; and the Clippers were
the Clippers pre-Chris Paul.
Ricky Davis never did land in the right place at the right
time, and it’s a shame, because both his game and his mentality, once
developed, were those of a winner. Had
events unfolded just a little bit differently, Davis could’ve flanked LeBron James
in the Finals, or won a title in Boston or Miami. Instead, this exceptional dunker, charismatic
teammate, and solid all-around player is remembered primarily for a momentary
lapse in judgment which has been immortalized by the internet.
No one but Ricky Davis could make the only in-game between-the-legs dunk in NBA history and have it seen by about 450,000 fewer youtubers
than have viewed the one he missed.
In conclusion, I would say something along the lines of,
“It’s time to let Buckets be,” but even I can’t help but admit that that look
on Jerry Sloan’s face is just too goddamned funny. So, on behalf of Ricky Davis, I ask not that
you refrain entirely from cracking the occasional triple-double joke, but only
that you recognize he was much, much more than a human blooper.
Thank you.
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