SB Nation User Blog: Dave

Sergio

Dave — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 06:01:43 -0000

Having been through the draft, the Olympics, Summer League, endless talk about the newcomers, and having chatted about most every other player on the roster it's time to revisit one of the semi-forgotten guys in the mix: Sergio Rodriguez.

I'm going to be as candid here as I've been on the podcast and radio when this has come up. It doesn't feel like the winds are blowing in a great direction for Sergio right now. Last season was obviously shaky for him. His confidence may or may not have taken a hit. The weaknesses in his game may or may not have been exposed. It's hard to say exactly what went on there, or if it was a combination of things. We just know it didn't work. He wasn't selected for Spain's Olympic team this summer. He didn't participate in Summer League. With Jerryd Bayless bringing a Jack-like scoring game without as many of Jarrett's weaknesses, Sergio could get stuck in the role of third point guard again. That isn't exactly a blueprint for a fast-ascending career.

On the other hand none of the above data is anywhere near conclusive. It looks shaky for him, but circumstantially so. Players are entitled to have a rough sophomore season. That has happened to plenty of guys and some have rebounded to have nice careers. If you step back and analyze the Sergio-meter so far (at least according to the fans) you'd say he had minimal expectations coming into the league and exceeded them with his flashes of brilliance. This led to much higher expectations for his second year which he didn't meet. When the meter oscillates that violently it usually means the truth is somewhere in the middle. Plus even though Bayless poses a real threat to Sergio's potential minutes they're not at all the same kind of guard. In fact they're dead opposite in many ways. It's not like Nate is going to see Jerryd as an acceptable substitute if he needs a Sergio. The door is open still.

What will Sergio need to do to kick the door fully open and walk through it and into the rotation? Here's the list:

1. He needs to come into training camp in incredible shape and ready to go. It's not so much that this is a weakness for him, but the "new leaf" psychology is operative here and this is a prime symbol of it. This is how you show the coaches on Day One that you're serious.

2. He needs to demonstrate that he has honed both his skills and his mental approach. Remember last year when Mike Barrett and Jason Quick started writing very early on about Joel Przybilla and how we were going to notice a marked difference in his free throw shooting? We need to hear whispers that Sergio is going to surprise us this year. We need to hear how much better his shot looks. We need to hear how he's focused on the coaches like a laser and he seems to be able to anticipate what they want to see out of him and the offense instead of just responding to it. We need to hear about his all-out, two-way hustle.

3. He needs to make friends with Greg Oden. You have noticed that Greg Oden can dunk, right? You may have also noticed that any alley-oop south of the utter top of the backboard he's going to catch and throw down. Who's the most likely candidate on the team to be throwing those alley-oops? Greg Oden is a possible lifeline for Sergio. Besides the dunks, Sergio also needs to make darn sure he can throw an excellent, basic pass into the post. He needs to know what to do after he's made that pass as well, including (as we mentioned above) being a threat to hit the shot if it's passed back.

4. He needs to play with his usual abandon on the break. Everybody with eyes is betting this team will start to run more in the near future. We may not be at full throttle this season but we should be in first gear at least and shifting towards second. Lamarcus Aldridge, Rudy Fernandez, Oden, Bayless...these guys can charge. The Blazers have nobody better than Sergio to lead in a running offense. There's not even a close second.

5. He needs to be prepared to produce big in small minutes. Barring injury he's not going to pull 20 mpg without proving himself first. He doesn't have the luxury of ramping up slowly when he gets inserted. This is not to say he has to spaz out or break the offense when he comes in. That'll just get him benched again. But if he has an open shot he has to take it and hit it. If he has a lane he must drive it. If he has the ball he has to push it up now, not three plays from now. This is the reality of life off the bench in the NBA. The league is full of guys who could probably put up respectable numbers if they were just granted 25 minutes to do it, but we never see them because they can't give that same production in practice and for 5 minutes in a game.

6. Speaking of practice...every one of those is like his NBA Finals. I don't know how he's used to practicing or what his habits are, but they need to be exemplary all year long. He has got to find every edge he can to win that time. You know Bayless isn't going to back down from a challenge. You know Blake is reliable whether he practices well or not. That means Sergio needs to be a star during rehearsal to gain ground. Nate has remarked about a couple relatively obscure players in the past pretty much forcing him to play them by the way they worked out. That needs to be Sergio this year.

Note that none of these half-dozen items involves Sergio being somebody he's not. We didn't try to turn him into a lock-down defender. We didn't say a peep about the turnovers. I believe Sergio can play his game and make it in the NBA without having his flaws submarine him. But because his game is not complete--or at least not complete yet--he's going to have to do these other things well.

Were I to summarize Sergio's potential future with the Blazers right now I'd say not to bet on him, but don't sleep on him either. We ought to get signs fairly early on which way things are going to go. Hearing positive things about him would be a big plus, showing not only an improved game but an advantageous attitude as well. Not hearing about him at all would probably be a discouraging sign considering that he needs to shine in order to advance.

--Dave (blazersub@yahoo.com)

Podcast

Dave — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 23:09:44 -0000

Here's the link to the stupid-cool, hip-hoppin' podcast that all the kids are talking about. This week Gavin Dawson of 95.5 The Game, Casey Holdahl of the Center Court Blog, and I chat about the Olympic wrap, Big Duck, practices, trade rumors, the weather, and the significance of anything that happens in August.

Click here for the mp3 or you can follow that link to Casey's blog above to stream it.

--Dave (blazersub@yahoo.com)

Duckworth Memorial Service

Dave — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 00:14:08 -0000

From the Blazers:

MEMORIAL SERVICE SET FOR BLAZERS GREAT KEVIN DUCKWORTH

WHAT

The Trail Blazers, along with the Duckworth family, will be holding a memorial service for Kevin Duckworth, who passed away suddenly Monday evening in Gleneden Beach, Ore., at the age of 44.

WHERE
The celebration of Kevin's life will be held at the Memorial Coliseum, a place he called home, on the floor where Duck and his teammates left an indelible mark on our hearts and our history. The Memorial Coliseum is located adjacent to the Rose Garden Arena, at 300 N. Winning Way in Portland.

WHO
All fans are invited to join Kevin's family, friends, current and former Trail Blazers personnel, as well as several of Duck’s former teammates, to pay their respects.

WHEN

Saturday, August 30, at 11 a.m.

REMEMBRANCES

Ways to honor Kevin Duckworth will be announced shortly.

PARKING

Due to another event taking place at the Rose Garden, we strongly encourage the use of public transportation.

--Dave (blazersub@yahoo.com)

Rehashing Why Greg Oden is the Key

Dave — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 06:52:37 -0000

I’m sure I have talked about this once before, but it’s been a while and with all of the talk about the impact of new players and talent depth it’s been on my mind.

Depth, talent, and versatility are important. Those things are valuable in getting through an 82-game grind and positioning yourself for the playoffs. The more arrows you have in your quiver the better chance that some of them will strike home over the long run. However once you get to the playoffs it becomes a different game…not so much about the number of arrows (as the chances to fire are more limited over seven games than eighty-two) but about how accurately you take your best shot and how much damage you do with it.

Fast forward eight months down the road. The Blazers are entering the playoffs for the first time since back in Ought-Three. For fun let’s say it’s against the L*kers. (If you don’t like that, figure instead at some point we’ll have to face them to make it to the promised land.) I guarantee you somewhere--could be a fanpost here, could be another site entirely, might even be in a print publication--somebody is going to offer some version of the following analysis. (I’m using last year’s L.A. roster and foregoing the explanations which would be included.)

Derek Fisher vs. Steve Blake: Push

Kobe Bryant vs. Brandon Roy: Edge L*kers

Lamar Odom vs. Martell Webster: Edge L*kers

Pau Gasol vs. Lamarcus Aldridge: Edge Blazers

Andrew Bynum vs. Greg Oden: Edge Blazers

Bench: Edge Blazers

Blazers have three edges, L*kers have two, Blazers should win.

Sounds logical on paper. Reality doesn’t follow that logic, however. The fly in the ointment is that the NBA playoffs don’t depend on edging out your opponent in more positions as much as they depend on who has the best overall player on the floor. Even in this new, team-game-friendly league the gap that matters most is the superstar gap. You can edge a team out in three or four of six positions (including bench). They’ve got Kobe or Kevin Garnett? They win a lot of seven-game series. That one mismatch weighs more than the others.

The key to playoff success is simple: You have to have a guy on the floor who has the potential to be the best, most dominant player out there on a given night, who fulfills that potential more often than not, and who warps the whole game for both sides when he does fulfill that potential.

Consider Portland’s own history. Back in the late 70’s Maurice Lucas was an all-world player. There weren’t many other power forwards who could stack up to him. Lionel Hollins was a star as well for those couple years. The Blazers also had a renown supporting cast considered one of the most cohesive in team history. But the player who owned the court every night was Bill Walton. In 1976-77 he was healthy and Portland won it all. In 1977-78 he goes down near the end of the season with a foot injury and the Blazers--with that same cast of other stars and supporters--go down in the first round. A decade or so later Terry Porter was a fantastic point guard, Kevin Duckworth an All-Star center, and Buck Williams and Jerome Kersey were feared forwards. That group made your knees shake. But the guy who made the difference was Clyde Drexler. With him that team is a Finals contender. Without him the team is decent, but decent doesn’t win over the long haul in the playoffs.

Fast forward once again to today. Brandon Roy is an incredible leader, a clutch player, an amazing scorer…in many ways he’s the Terry Porter of his time. (Keep in mind that while we think of Terry as a point guard he really shaded towards a hybrid who marked scoring and team leadership among his strongest gifts.) Lamarcus Aldridge is going to become dominant, perhaps as much as Mo Lucas ever was offensively. The young talent surrounding those two has everybody salivating. But Brandon is not going to be Kobe or LeBron. He does have this weird knack of bending the space around him to his will and he will win plenty of games for the Blazers. I’d even go so far as to say he’ll be the game-bending player on many nights. But on a night-to-night basis even if he’s capable of scoring in Kobe-like droves that’s not the strength of his game. Nor is he able to shape the game defensively as strongly as Kobe does. Brandon is a smart, consummate team player. It’s just not his style to thrash the entire court and strangle it in that “I’m League MVP So Whatcha Gonna Do, Brother?” way. Lamarcus is going to be a multi-time All-Star himself but he’s probably not going to be Bill Walton or Tim Duncan 50-Greatest-Ever dominant. Who is the guy with the potential to just destroy everything that moves around him…not the sleek fighter jet or the tricked-out tank, but the freakin’ nuclear bomb? For the Blazers that’s Oden. Both Brandon and Lamarcus make the opponent go, “Oh no, we better have our stuff together.” Greg Oden is the type of guy who could make the opponent go, “We quit!” That last part is what wins playoff basketball.

Greg Oden will have the potential to trump any opponent mismatch in the same way Kobe Bryant does…not just an edge, but THE edge that makes the opponent edges not matter anymore. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen in the regular season, when it’s go-time in April, May, and eventually June, that’s going to make the difference. You can win a series here and there without him, but if you want to dream about Finals appearances, Oden is your guy.

--Dave (blazersub@yahoo.com)

Duckworth Memory

Dave — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 06:17:55 -0000

Along with all the rest of you I was saddened by the news of Kevin Duckworth's passing yesterday. Double-zero was in many ways an underrated but heroic figure for a Portland culture. He didn't look the part and he was visibly imperfect...maybe even easy to malign. Yet he was as nice as the day is long, devoted to the area, and those who knew the score saw that he was an integral part of the team in those late early-nineties glory years. When he came riding through the tunnel on his horse to save the day in that Game 7 versus the Spurs he finally got his unadulterated moment in the sun and his true character and worth were revealed. You couldn't have scripted it any better. But that memory has been shared many places so I want to bring up a different think I appreciated about Duck.

Few would remember it or remark upon it now, but Kevin Duckworth is the guy who introduced the pick-and-pop to Portland. Long before every tall, skinny, hyper-athletic power forward in the league was screening and then drifting outside to take a jumper, there was this huge, 7-footer lumbering his way to the baseline and shooting that one-handed wobble shot time after time. As I recall Duck's offense was somewhat controversial at the time. Traditionally men his size were supposed to set massive picks and then roll to the basket, not float outside for a 10-12 footer. They were supposed to batter and bruise the opponent and toss in a slam or baby hook from two feet. But that wasn't Duck's nature. He'd accept contact but he wasn't a killer or bruiser. But he could hit a jumper. After futilely forcing him to be that inside guy I guess the coaches just shrugged their shoulders and let him do what came naturally. However it happened, it was perfect for the Portland offense.

First of all, when Duck set a screen it was decent by default. His size took care of that. Whoever wanted around that pick had a long way to go. Forget trying to move through it. Portland's guards demanded coverage, however. You couldn't just trail behind Clyde and Terry nor could you really go around leaving them open for a jumper. If they came around that screen and you weren't there they were going to hit a shot or drive and destroy you. That meant the best option was for both defenders to pinch the dribbler or otherwise team up to impede him. That left Duck alone when he rolled.

This was not uncommon in the NBA, of course. Every team that defends a pick and roll makes these choices in certain situations. They also compensate for them by having a third defender dive into the lane to stop the now free-rolling pick-setter. Except Duck didn't go into the lane. Duck went down to the baseline instead. The rotation couldn't get over there quick enough. Most centers at the time weren't agile enough to help cover the guard and then get back down to him either. That meant a lot of passes coming off the screen down to Kevin and a lot of chances for him to take that jumper. It translated into a lot of points on the scoreboard as well. He shot that thing as well as he did those shots from two feet out, maybe even better. Plus his ability to pull the opposing center out of the paint led to more drives for Clyde and Terry and more offensive rebounds for Jerome and Buck. If you remember Kersey flying down the lane to throw down a nasty put-back rebound also remember to thank Kevin for hitting the jumpers that made that kind of thing possible.

Duckworth didn't invent the pick-and-pop or the mid-range shooting center, of course. Walton himself had pretty decent range and a few of Duck's contemporaries also used the move. But it still boggled your mind at the time to see this huge guy playing that way. That baseline jumper was one of his special contributions to Portland history.

We'll miss you Duck.

--Dave (blazersub@yahoo.com)

Final Thoughts on Team USA and Rudy

Dave — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 06:05:58 -0000

I allowed myself a luxury on Saturday night which I hadn't previously during this Olympic basketball run: I watched the game as a game instead of focusing laser tight on Rudy Fernandez and his play. I must admit it was much more relaxing that way. I still came away with a few final thoughts.

On Team USA:

I was actually happy they won the gold medal game. We saw something extremely rare in that contest. Before this year we've seen two types of Team USA games: those in which the squad wasn't challenged and cruised their way to victory and those in which they received a challenge and crumpled. Saturday we got a rare glimpse of a game in which the team was challenged and actually played enough good basketball to claim the victory. I liked seeing that. It gave me a newfound respect for those players and the job the team as a whole (including the coaches) did. Had the U.S. not showed some skill passing and hitting shots from distance they would have lost that game as they had its cousins in years past. Despite the final margin piled on in the last minute one or two three-pointers missed would have rocked the boat substantially. When they got finished I found myself saying, "Now THAT was a game."

Team USA also had to tread a line which will eventually become important to the Blazers. During the middle quarters of the game when the U.S. was being pressured Doug Collins mentioned repeatedly that they had to continue playing a team game and not revert to one-on-one tactics. This was a near-unveiled reference back to the Iverson/Marbury days when "team" described form but not function. When he said it, I thought he was half right. Two hands must be kept in tension, balanced against each other in this vein. On the one had Collins is perfectly correct. As soon as one player tried to dominate the game the team would fall apart, passing would fail, the opposing defense would key, and we'd see outside jumpers missed and run back for easy points, leading to a loss. On the other hand you have talent on that team for a reason. If no individual player is able to step forth and flourish, if giving up the rock is always the right play, then you end up losing because you never took full advantage of the players you put on the squad. You get to the end of the game and the analysis reads, "Kobe was never Kobe" or "We never saw the real LeBron for some reason".

As it turned out, the U.S. team did play a team game up until the point in the fourth when Kobe took the game over. When he did none of the other players vied with him for the position. It seems like they said, "In crunch time this is the guy, and we're all going to be cool with that." In reality this is just another variation of the unselfishness that Collins was talking about. Any of them could have been that guy, but all of them competing to would have led to disaster. The other guys--even LeBron--accepted the torch being passed to Kobe and said, "Down the stretch this team needs 100% of you more than it needs 20% of all of us." We got the best of both worlds: a team game plus Kobe being Kobe.

This balance has been devilishly hard for Team USA to perfect in the past. That they were able to do it this year is a serious credit to all involved. As Portland continues its evolution, looking like it will be stuffed to the gills with talented players, it's an example they would do well to emulate.

The only other things that stood out about the U.S. team was simply how difficult it is for any team that's not intimately familiar with each other (and trusting of each other) to make defensive adjustments and rebound. Certain critical aspects of the game really are team-dependent no matter how talented the players involved.

On Rudy Fernandez:

The fact that Rudy didn't start the game or play in the first quarter tells you something about Rudy in general. The fact that he responded with a fantastic game tells you something about Rudy specifically.

The inescapable generality we can glean from Rudy not starting is that his perceived talent level and value, while undoubtedly good, is not iron-clad great. This was the gold medal game. If this guy is your star, your all-star, Mr. Olympics, there's no way in heck he's on the bench for the opening tip, let alone the opening ten minutes. That would never happen to Pau Gasol, period. That's just reality. Amongst all the Rudy hype it's necessary to say that, speaking in generalities, there were 12 guys on the U.S. Team who are all better players than he, plus a guy on the Spanish team, plus a few more sprinkled around the tournament.

Dwight Jaynes wondered why the Spanish team chose this route with Rudy. I will admit it is not the way I would have chosen to go, but there may be a couple plausible answers. First, Doug Collins hit it on the head when he said that the Spanish team wanted to shorten this game. Their best strategy was to stay close as long as possible and then out-kick the U.S. (or if you prefer, turn the game into a coin flip) in the closing minutes. The thing they wanted to avoid above all was getting down big in the first quarter. To this end they played a ton of man-to-man in the first half. Their other guards may just be better in that defensive scheme than Rudy is. When they started employing more zone they had no problem playing him. The second reason Jaynes hints at in the closing paragraphs of his piece. Rudy fouled out even in the minutes he got. It's possible they anticipated he would have trouble guarding his counterparts cleanly and figured they needed him out there for those crucial closing minutes more than they needed him in the opening stanza. Making sense of this doesn't invalidate the paragraph just above, it simply explains what Rudy needs to work on to become one of those iron-clad guys.

The only other reason I can think of offhand would be some sort of disciplinary action, but that seems well beyond the realm of credibility. We've heard nothing of the sort and besides, it's the gold medal game. You don't use that venue to make a point.

The bigger point here for Blazer fans is that Rudy responded fantastically to the plan, whatever the reasoning, strengths, or weaknesses involved. A ton of guys would have crumpled after being left on the bench for the entire first period in the ultimate game. Some would have come out angry and tried to dominate the game unnecessarily as soon as they were inserted. What did Rudy do? He only came out and had his best game of the tournament (taking the stakes and opposition into consideration). He showed something about his resolve and dedication that speaks louder than the same game would have had he been used normally. This is exactly what he's going to need in the NBA. It's going to be a learning experience and he will face some struggles. The proper response to that fight is exactly what he did in this game: don't act the fool, don't pout, don't make excuses, don't make the game all about you, don't lose confidence and shy away...rather come out giving the best effort you can within the framework of the game plan and show the coaches and everybody why you should be playing every darn minute of the game. In this sense the first-quarter absence was a blessing for those of us looking in. It reveals something we otherwise might not have seen. If Rudy keeps that attitude he will do fine here.

Congrats to Team USA. The next time we'll see something definitive about Rudy will be the start of the season. Keep the legend in perspective until then but also be prepared to enjoy him. This should be interesting.

--Dave (blazersub@yahoo.com)

Rudy vs. USA Part Two: Who Will You Root For?

Dave — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 00:00:40 -0000

Tonight brings the gold medal Olympics game between Spain and the U.S., starring one of our favorite new-look Blazers. Oh, and a bunch of guys named Kobe, LeBron, Dwyane, and the like, I suppose. The game is supposed to be televised at 11:30 p.m. Pacific on NBC.

This is your Gameday Thread, but before we get into all of that, a question: Who are you going to root for? Do you go the patriotic route and scream, "USA all the way!"? Do you stick with our favorite non-native son? Or do you have a hybrid of the two?

Weigh in below and enjoy the game!

--Dave (blazersub@yahoo.com)

A Blazer Fairy Tale

Dave — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 11:25:09 -0000

In the podcast post below BlazermaniacAndy asked if I thought I could write a Blazer-related story about kings and kingdoms and redemption for him to read before bedtime. I figured I'd give it a shot. Until a better one comes along consider this the Official Blazersedge Bedtime Fairy Tale.

Dialogue takes a lot of column space so you have to click past the jump to see the story and then do the same with Part 2 below. It's not obscenely long as such things go, but with the line space required after each line of conversation the site chokes on it unless it's divided.

--Dave (blazersub@yahoo.com)

The first sliver of sun had not yet crowned the horizon when the brightening eastern sky revealed a lonely silhouette in the field. A man, tall and well-formed, chipped away at the soil with an oversized spade, the ground his anvil, the rhythm of his breath the bellows. Famer Joel moved with the confidence of one who simultaneously knew the land and fought it. Hope and anger flew with each strike, resolution with each strong heave of his muscled torso. He was alone, but the ground would move before he did.

A strange morning it was, however, for just as the sun rose his sweat-stained vigil was interrupted by a second rhythm: the methodical sound of horses’ hooves. After two more carefully-timed swings at the dirt, Farmer Joel leaned on his shovel and looked up. He was familiar with horses, of course. His own team had been over this field more times than he cared to remember. But he had known without looking that these were no plough horses. Their gait and pace marked them even by ear as gentlemen’s mounts. Farmer Joel was not surprised to see that each bore a tall, fit rider, well-armed and alert. As the strange visitors approached Farmer Joel marked that they were impressively built, but young. His assessment of them as dandies changed the moment he saw their eyes. Seriousness marked their gaze, but not unkindly so. Whatever their years, they appeared to know what they were doing.

“Ho, farmer!” came the call. A right hand lifted upward in greeting.

“Ho, strangers!” Farmer Joel replied, not taking his hands from the haft of his shovel. “What would you be doing in these parts?”

“It’s a fine morning for a ride. Or it would be, if the land wasn’t marked like this.” A long arm spread wide to encompass the horizon. “All morning we’ve been riding and all we’ve seen is charred earth, tumbled fences, battered walls. Your field here is the first thing we’ve come across that’s relatively intact. So we stopped. What happened here?”

“It’s a long story, stranger. The town’s that way. You’ll find people who can tell it better.”

“Is it half destroyed like the rest?”

“Yep. Pretty much.”

“What caused all this? War?”

“In a manner of speaking. Though that wasn’t the worst of it.”

The riders stood looking down at him patiently. Farmer Joel sighed. Evidently they weren’t leaving until they found out what they wanted to know. Noticing his reluctance, the rider spoke. “Forgive us for making you crane your neck.” He slid off of his mount with practiced ease, as did his companion. “I am Sir Brandon. I hail from parts north. This is Sir Lamarcus, from the south and east.”

“If you’re from the north and you from the south and east, how did you end up traveling together?”

“So far we’ve been traveling on fortune’s winds. Lucky chance, and nothing more.”

The farmer cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve been around long enough to know that fortunate drafts are seldom the result of mere chance.”

“However that may be, chance is how we see it. If you see something else, perhaps you are wiser.”

Farmer Joel snorted at that. “Look around you. Does a wise man dig holes in fields like this?”

“So what happened? What war caused this?”

“I told you it wasn’t war. That’s how it started, yes. Wars come upon a season here…men in these colors fighting against men in those. We’re no strangers to it. But the scars you see run deeper. They came from no enemy. At least no enemy we expected.”

“How so?”

The farmer sighed again and slightly relaxed his hold on the shovel.

“This was once a noble town…a noble land. In those days it was fair. We didn’t always have everything our way, but our men were strong and fought well. Our people were proud and graceful. We were respected even by enemy soldiers and their people. Win or lose, no matter what the day brought every man, woman, and child could hold their head high. Then it all changed.” At this the two knights looked at each other, then back to the farmer, but they kept their silence as he continued.

“I don’t know exactly how it happened. I don’t suppose anyone knows. Some say corruption came from the top. Maybe the people had it so good for so long they stopped paying attention. Or maybe they became more concerned about winning the battle than fighting it well…or than what they were fighting to preserve. Either way the result was the same. We started weakening. Nobody made progress. The leaders stood up and told us we needed better men, that the old ways weren’t good enough. So they started hiring mercenaries.” At this the farmer turned his head and spat. “Sure, they fought for a while. Everything seemed fine. But they always seemed to cost a little more than they gave. We brought in more and more of them and trained up fewer and fewer of the old-style men. Then little by little we started losing. The leaders didn’t care. They were getting rich off of the taxes they raised to pay for the mercenaries. Finally, when it became apparent to even the dullest fool that the money was going to run dry and we couldn’t win a battle if our lives depended on it, they left. The mercenaries, the leaders, all of them. But they didn’t leave empty-handed. Oh no. They took everything they could lay their hands on: the heritage, the pride, the chance to be something…everything They’d have taken the whole town if they could.

“Some complained, of course. It didn’t do any good. They just laughed and told us it was necessary. Nobody believed it, but it was too late by then. Most of the folks just drifted off after that. Nobody to repair the barns. Nobody to mend the fences. No children laughing, no fire in the hearth, nobody wanting to remember much. Just scarred ground and silence. Look around you. No enemy did this to us. We did it to ourselves.”

The air dripped with the bitterness in the farmer’s voice at his last pronouncement. Neither of the strangers wanted to break the silence. Finally Sir Lamarcus said softly, “Why did you stay?”

The farmer sighed again. “I shouldn’t have probably. Should have left with all the rest. But I figure I had my best years tilling this ground. Didn’t find much of a home anywhere else. When you’ve got memories like that, well…sometimes they matter more than what you see.”

“Is there anyone else left?”

“Yeah…a few. Most of them are in town. It’s that way, if you remember.”

Sir Brandon laughed at the pointed suggestion. “Alright, farmer. But one more question. What are you going to do when enemies come again?”

With that the farmer’s arms whirled around faster than the strangers’ eyes could give credence to. The flat side of his shovel whistled through the morning air and stopped little more than an inch from Sir Lamarcus’ incredulous face. “I suppose I’ll just knock back as many as I can before they bowl me over, or until they stop coming.”

The two knights gaped in open surprise. Their small chuckles gave way to heartier laughter as the shock passed. The farmer stood still, straight-faced.

“I like you farmer,” said Sir Brandon. “If everybody here is like you I think we might take a liking to this land as well.”

Sir Lamarcus nodded. “Yes. I believe we’ll have to stay a while.”

“Suit yourself,” said Farmer Joel. “There are more shovels in the shed.”

They laughed again. “I’m afraid we’re not good at digging,” said Sir Brandon, “but we can be helpful with other things. Tell me…are there any others like us in town? Men trained in the way of fighting?”

Farmer Joel snorted. “I don’t supposed ‘trained’ is what you’d call it. There are a couple of youngsters who have been fooling around for a while. They think they’re pretty good. I wouldn’t give them much chance in a real fight though. If you go to town you can’t miss them.”

“We’ll do that then,” said Sir Brandon. “Thank you farmer, and good day.”

“G’day.” Farmer Joel turned and resumed his patient digging as if nothing untoward had happened. Well, he did cast one glance over his shoulder after he was sure the knights were well off in the distance. He shook his head and cracked a small smile, but he was sure nobody saw.

***

The riders entered the town gate side-by-side. Each noticed, but neither remarked, that the lintel was cracked and in danger of collapse. As they road down the main thoroughfare nobody appeared to pay them much heed.

“I’m used to a little better reception than this,” said Sir Lamarcus.

His friend was quick with the reply. “Look at their eyes. Half of them are afraid, whether or not they’ll admit it. The other half don’t care. The farmer was right. This town has lost hope.”

“I wonder if there’s any chance of getting something decent to eat here?”

At that moment there was a clatter from above. The tall, lanky form of a youth somersaulted from one of the rooftops to land squarely in front of the two knights. Sword drawn, he looked at them with determination even as one of his fellows stepped around the corner with an arrow nocked against the string of his great bow.

“I would stop right there if you mean this town any harm,” said the bowman. “My friend there knows how to use his weapon and mine would fell you before you drew that sword at your side.” As if to punctuate the threat the youth with the sword jumped in the air and brandished his sword, twisting both blade and body in incredible fashion.

“Very impressive!” said Sir Brandon. “We mean you no harm, nor your town. In fact I think we were looking for you.”

“For us?” asked the tumbling swordsman.

“Yes. A farmer outside of town said we might find youths in here who had some…skill with weapons.”

The visages of the two young men darkened at the word “youth”. “We may be young,” said the bowman, “but we’re dangerous youth!”

“Indeed...we can, uh…see that.” This reply came from Sir Lamarcus as the back of his gauntleted hand covered his mouth ever so slightly.

The tumbler spoke again. “If you don’t believe us, try yourself against me!”

Sir Lamarcus slid off the side of his horse and paced clear. By this time a crowd was gathering. “I do not wish you to hurt me,” he said. “Shall we promise no serious blows?”

“So be it!” said the youth. And he sprung to the attack.

Sir Lamarcus’ eyebrows raised slightly as he watched the youth complete a series of twists and vaults, his sword making a blur before him…and sometimes behind and beneath. The knight moved his feet slowly but steadily, eyes on the navel of his opponent. His sword flicked out now and again to deflect the wild, looping slashes the young man threw in his direction. Suddenly he ducked under a high blow, spun to his right, and caught the young man square on the back with the flat of his blade. The force of the blow was enough to send the tumbler sprawling face-down in the street. Sir Lamarcus reached out a hand and helped him to stand. “You have enough quickness and I’ve never seen leaps like you perform, but the gods only know how you’ve managed to get this far without slicing off your own feet the way you wave that thing around when you tumble.”

The young man’s indignant response was cut short by Sir Brandon’s shout. “Sir Lamarcus! Is he suitable?”

Never taking his eyes off of the youth, he replied, “Yes, I believe so. With a little proper training he may be more than that.”

Sir Brandon turned his head towards the bowman. “Do you know how to use that thing?”

The bowman turned in reply, drew his arrow back, and released. It sailed high into the air until it bounced off of the face of a carved statue adorning the top of the gate wall, over a hundred yards away.

“I can see long-distance shooting will be your specialty. What other means of attack are you good at?”

The youth shrugged.

“Well then, that’s something we’ll work on. What are your names?”

“I am known as Martell,” said the bowman, “and my springy friend there is Travis.”

“Well met,” said the knight. “Well met.”

***

Months passed. Under the tutelage of the two knights the young men learned something of the ways of battle. “Don’t overextend yourself. Don’t waste motion. But there, when you see an opening take it! Take it!” The lessons were hard and the repetition severe, but by the end of the winter season the town’s fighting force looked far better than it had since before the scarring.

On one of his rare trips into town Farmer Joel caught up with the two knights in the local inn.

“Well, I have to say that you look pretty impressive. It was more than I thought you would do. But there’s still a problem I don’t think all the practice in the world is going to get you around.”

“There’s too few of us,” said Sir Lamarcus.

“There’s too few of you. You know I will lend what I can. But even so…just us five? That’s not much to defend the city.”

“We aren’t telling anybody,” said Sir Brandon, “but we think we have a solution for that.”

“Do tell.”

“You see, we’ve heard this rumor of a…” Sir Brandon’s reply was cut off by a commotion in the street. First astonishment, then laughter began trickling through the crowd which was quickly assembling.

“Now what the peas porridge is that about?” asked Farmer Joel.

The three of them went to the window, but not being able to see past the growing throng, they hurried outside.

“Yes indeed! Potions, curatives, pastimes, and entertainments all rolled into one! That’s what you’re about to see, good people! You have never laid your eyes on something so mystical, so magical, so splendiferous in so many ways as the Chan Man.” The voice floated over the din of the crowd, somehow heard clearly even in the back rows. The three tall men pushed their way to the front anyway. Another tall, thin man stood in the center of the circle which had formed around him. His smile seemed ready and his eyes twinkled. He saw the three stout men and immediately turned towards them.

“Ah, obviously fine men in impeccable shape! You surely do not have need of my potions and curatives. But take heed all of you! The miracles I carry can make you as fit and strong as these and then some! A little perseverance and a spoonful of belief is all it takes! But you three…you would certainly be more interested in my pastimes. Riddles to confound the mind and puzzles to confound the fingers and common sense alike. Games that your children will never tire of and smells that your wives will love. No? Well perhaps you enjoy juggling then?” With this the man produced several multi-colored balls from his sleeves and began twirling them in the air as the crowd applauded politely.

At this Farmer Joel harrumphed loudly while the two knights looked stoic. The crowd-pleaser continued undaunted. “Come now, gentlemen! Surely there is something which will delight you! A veritable buffet of goodness am I…the Great Channing, world-renowned and thrice-blessed. Name it, and it’s yours!”

Sir Lamarcus looked at him evenly and asked, “Can you fight?”

The juggler stopped his tossing at that, the balls disappearing back into his sleeves. “Well now, that depends on the meaning of your question, I suppose. Am I in mortal danger right now?”

“Probably not.”

“Then perhaps we can discuss this under more…private circumstances?” The crowd groaned at this pronouncement but he hushed them. “No, no, good people! There will be plenty of potions and curatives and entertainments to be had later! For now we must obtain the blessing of your town leaders.”

With that the Great Channing stalked through the crowd and into the inn, the trio of men right behind. Inside he took a table, his chair facing the door.

“Gentlemen, surely my welcome can not be as worn as all that yet.”

Sir Brandon sighed. “No, not at all. You simply find us at a difficult time. The campaigning season is soon upon us and we haven’t enough men to properly defend this town. A little levity would be useful to take the people’s minds off of their troubles, but a good sword would be even more useful.”

“Well now, I have told you I am a buffet of goodness, have I not? I do not swing a sword that well but there are many ways of accomplishing the same goals.”

“Such as?”

The juggler’s wrist made a swift flick and the men caught the hint of something tiny sailing through the air in the general direction of the inn till. Suddenly a flash and a substantial boom emanated from a spittoon which sat on the floor by the counter. A geyser of mercifully unidentifiable glop spewed from the canister. The innkeeper jumped a foot into the air and then shot the table a severe grimace as he hastened to fetch a mop.

“That, gentlemen, was my smallest piece.”

The looks from the three men became a tad more respectful. Then Farmer Joel spoke. “What is your price to join us? We have not had good fortune with hired hands.”

“Price? Not all the money in the world would do, I fear. I can make all the money I need plying my trade.”

Sir Lamarcus asked, “So what would convince you to stay?”

“The one thing I have never been offered.”

“Which is?”

“Respect. Respect and the chance to be myself. So many look at me with distaste and mistrust. Even those who enjoy me eventually want to change me, to force me into being something I’m not. I just want a place that accepts me that I can call my own.”

The three men looked at each other. Farmer Joel spoke. “Well, we’re hardly in a position to be choosy…”

“I cannot BELIEVE that you are thinking of accepting this man into our fine fellowship!” The voice came from behind the counter. It immediately caused Farmer Joel to roll his eyes. “Well, where have you been all this time?” he asked.

“I’ve been here, but you haven’t seen me much! It’s part of my powers!”

The two knights looked at each other in confusion. “Who is this?” asked Sir Brandon.

“I am Sergio, sometimes known as Il Mago. I have great and wonderful powers, unlike this charlatan and purveyor of trinkets!”

The juggler raised an eyebrow at that. “Would you care to demonstrate some of your ‘powers’?”

“Not that I should have to prove myself to YOU, but yes! I will!”

With that the young magician lifted his hands to his lips, made a complex motion with his fingers, and blew outward. A tongue of flame, flickering intermittently, drifted out from his fingers and almost lit one of the oil lamps hanging on the inn wall.

“You missed,” said Sir Lamarcus.

“Well, yes. My powers are not full-grown yet! But when they are full-grown I will be a great and mighty wizard, far more suited to your company of defenders than this phony!”

Sir Brandon leaned across the table and whispered to Sir Lamarcus, “Perhaps we can use him in some kind of support role.”

Sir Lamarcus nodded and said, “We have reached our decision! Since the matter of which of you is the greater is as yet unsettled, we are forced to retain both of you in our company! Let no man say different until we, ourselves, have made our judgment!”

The juggler nodded to the magician at that. The magician shrugged and sat down at the table. “So what’s next?”

Sir Brandon replied, “Even with our company so strengthened, we lack two things. One of those Sir Lamarcus and I will attend to shortly. The second is more difficult. We have many fine fighte…uhhh…we have many fighters but we have nobody to organize us. We need someone with a brain for battle, for logistics and accounting and all the little things that keep an army running smoothly. Do you know anyone who fits the bill?”

Silence reigned around the table until Farmer Joel spoke up. “There used to be a man like that around here. He left a while back though. We know the direction he went though.”

“Do the boys know him?”

“Yes.”

“Then send for them. We’re going to send them after him. Pray he’s willing to come back.”

STORY CONTINUES IN PART 2 BELOW