First there were murmurs that the 20-year-old had grown an inch since the regular season, put on 25 pounds, and was working out like a maniac. Then there was this 42 point explosion in Las Vegas. Now Randolph has turned heads at USA basketball, earning praise from some as a pleasant surprise of last week's minicamp.
For the Golden State faithful, tales of the imminent arrival of Anthony Randolph have been discussed breathlessly since last winter. The 2008-2009 season was an almost entirely miserable and hopeless one, but you'd never know from watching a Warriors home game. Oracle Arena stayed packed all year long. A home crowd that may have been the loudest in the entire league went crazy - Crazy! - night after night for a team that couldn't crack thirty wins.
They cheered Brandon Wright when he went one for two from the line. They cheered Jamal Crawford when he dribbled superfluously through his legs and knocked down a three after missing five in a row. They even cheered when the half time entertainment, a trio of hype men known as the Flying W's, missed one of their final trampoline-aided dunks. After all, the little dudes had heart.
The loudest cheers, though, were always for Randolph.
Even the best 7 footers in the NBA are remarkably limited in their mobility. Watch this video of Greg Oden and Brook Lopez going at it in a Team USA scrimmage and count how many times they stop at mid-court and don't get involved in a transition play because the break simply got ahead of them. Think back to the play-offs and how important it was for teams like Houston and Orlando not just to slow down their offensive attack, but to literally stop and wait for prize centers like Yao and Howard to get into position. Mobile big men like Kevin Garnett or Dirk Nowitzki aren't actually mobile; they're just less stiff than Chris Kaman.
Big men can't learn to sprint past defenders and handle the rock any more than Allen Iverson can learn to be a foot taller. Certain players just have certain limitations.
But this rule does not apply to Anthony Randolph. It's not just that Randolph is capable of running side by side with a hard charging point guard in a lightning-quick fast break. It's that Randolph himself is capable of running that fast break.
It is shocking the first time you see it: Randolph blocks a shot at one end, grabs the loose ball, lowers his towering frame into a crouch and takes off at a dead sprint. At mid court, he crosses over or whips the ball behind his back to avoid the steal attempt of a disbelieving opposing guard. He drives the lane, explodes off of one foot just inside the free throw line, and finishes above the rim. Gracefully.
Of course, the kid also missed more than a few of those coast to coast dunks last year, but the point remains the same. Was he inconsistent and immature as a rookie? Sure. Does his game still have troublesome holes? Absolutely. But ask any Warriors fan and they will tell you: when it comes to the purely physical component of the game - the ways in which a player can move and adjust his long body with impossible speed and precision in open play - there appears to be no limit to what Anthony Randolph can do.
Unfortunately for Warriors fans, though, Randolph's development may be largely irrelevant. In the enthusiastic embrace of the rookie's flashes of brilliance, it's easy to forget just how screwed up your franchise is.
To remind you: it's really screwed up.
The best player on the team is Monta Ellis, a point guard who has never shown an ability to distribute the ball, can't play defense, and sat out most of last season after a low-speed moped accident that he lied about to management. The team's emotional captain, Stephen Jackson, is fearless and loyal but probably a destabilizing influence more than a steady hand in tough situations. The starting center spent most of last season sidelined with injuries, the high-scoring sixth man is one of the top 5 most selfish players in the league, and the supporting cast is interesting but not exactly reliable.
And who is charged with guiding this combustible mix of young talent through the rigors of an 82 game season? Don Nelson, a 69-year-old man who can go entire quarters without leaving his seat on the bench and sees fit to down tumblers of Scotch and entertain visits from Willie Nelson and Woody Harrelson while conducting media interviews.
Nellie Ball seemed exhilirating when it meant freeing Baron Davis from the shackles of Mike Montgomery's stagnant offense.
Nowadays, I'm not even sure what Nellie Ball means.
Here's how good I think Anthony Randolph can be: before he's done, he absolutely has the potential to change the way we think about the center position. Forever.
But he's not there yet. And when you consider where the kid appears to be emotionally, his development still seems far from guaranteed. Particularly in the quantum vacuum of leadership that has existed in Oakland since the Baron Davis departure.
To feel truly hopeful about Randolph's future, the Warriors need a change. A change in direction, a change in culture, and probably a change in coaching too.
The fans will flock to Oracle regardless and they will be loud. Whether or not the quality of basketball matches the enthusiasm is another matter entirely.
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