The Nuggets need to walk in a big room full of the most beautiful people in basketball and do something extremely nerdy.
In front of Los Angeles superstar Kobe Bryant, actor supreme Jack Nicholson and those sexy Lakers dancers, the Nuggets must not be afraid to admit their most glaring weakness, then swallow their egos.
These proud dudes from Denver are going to have to play zone defense.
And we all know that if pro basketball moves to the beat of free-flowing rap, then the choreographed, mechanical shuffling of feet in a zone defense sounds more like a marching band keeping time to a tune from an old Broadway musical.
Ask Nuggets point guard Allen Iverson if he ever played zone growing up, and quicker than A.I. can execute a crossover dribble, he says, “Never.”
But if Denver is to have any chance to beat L.A. in the playoffs or survive for more than a few forgettable days as a No. 8 seed in the wild, wild Western Conference, the Nuggets are going to have to play the defense taught to hide personnel flaws:
Zone.
It’s a four-letter word.
Out on the blacktop, where the game is a rite of passage, the rims are bent and dunks shake nets made of chain, nobody plays zone defense.
When Denver forward Carmelo Anthony recently admitted his mistake of being pulled over by the cops at 4 o’clock in the morning, it was no coincidence the term he used for taking responsibility was “man up.”
There’s nothing macho about the zone.
To play zone forces an individual to admit he needs help.
The zone is only slightly less cool than Wonder Bread and looks nearly as dated as a phone booth.
Now, for the harsh reality: The Nuggets have nobody on their roster capable of slowing, much less shutting down, L.A.’s Bryant while playing straight-up, man-to-man D.
Maybe that’s one reason why the Lakers were the last team Denver wanted to face in the playoffs. Bryant makes this the worst possible matchup in the first round for the Nuggets.
Denver coach George Karl is a basketball purist. And, as strategic devices go, the zone can be viewed as a crutch.
So I recently asked Karl if instructing players to use the zone made him cringe.
He gave me the same look Karl often does.
His eyes said: What, are you crazy?
Then, the Nuggets coach explained: If his team has a nasty habit of surrendering 35 or 40 points in a single quarter, no sane coach would refuse the notion of any defense that might work.
“All I know,” Karl said, “is the zone changes offenses.”
No NBA team can play zone defense exclusively and expect to win a championship.
But the zone works for the Nuggets, and could be effective against the Lakers, for a number of reasons.
A zone allows Iverson to employ his natural instinct to gamble for steals, while providing him help should he get beat on the perimeter.
While Anthony tends to be lazy on the defensive end, the zone narrows the focus of his responsibility until there is no excuse for his attention to drift.
While Denver center Marcus Camby owns credentials as one of the league’s best defensive players, his strength is blocking shots as he swoops from the weak side, not bumping and grinding in the post. The zone is a perfect fit for his abilities.
In Southern California, perhaps the most fashion-obsessed place on the planet, the Nuggets must not be afraid to embrace a defense that’s the stylistic equivalent of an old, reliable minivan.
Zone.
It’s a four-letter word.
But if the Nuggets can somehow make Bryant and L.A. curse their D, then you know where Denver must be:
In the zone.
Mark Kiszla: 303-954-1053 or mkiszla@denverpost.com
