SSS HOF Inductee #3: Xavier McDaniel

January 24, 1988.

A day of which most Sonic fans have no recollection, lost amidst an otherwise forgettable season which culminated with a first-round loss to the Denver Nuggets.

But it was – for part of the day, anyways – a glorious day to be a Sonic fan.

To begin with, it was a Sunday which, in 1988, meant the opportunity to watch the one game a week televised around the country (at least, for those of us not fortunate enough to possess cable television). For a Sonic fan, Sunday matinees were as frequent as NBA Finals appearances, so if you had asked me in mid-November whether the Sonics would be on national television in January, my answer would have been an emphatic no. Sure, the Sonics had made it to the Western Conference Finals the previous spring on the wings of a miraculous run of victories, but that was a fluke, a mirage.

But for some reason, magic hit the Sonics that year, especially within the friendly confines of the Seattle Center Coliseum. Entering that Sunday, they owned an 18-1 home record, and were in the midst of a 17-game win streak at home and six straight in total. Sure, the 24-15 overall record didn’t indicate much, but that 18-1 mark, well, that meant a lot.

So much that CBS rolled Dick Stockton into town for a classic matchup between the Lakers and the Sonics on national TV. These were your uncle’s Lakers – Magic, Kareem, Worthy, AC, Rambis – and the Sonics were throwing out their killer trio of Chambers, Ellis, and Xavier McDaniel to combat them. To say Seattle fans were riled up entering the contest would be understatement.

Spearheading the Sonics’ torrid pace, the X-Man was on fire heading into that contest, averaging nearly 30 points per game in the previous five outings, including 41 against the Knicks at MSG. Would this be our opportunity to show the rest of the country just how great he was? Would we finally be able to sneak out from behind the shadow of Showtime and plant our flag as a great team?

For 24 minutes that Sunday, it sure seemed so.

The Sonics raced out to a huge lead that afternoon, thrilling the locals with their offensive exploits. With Michael Cooper suspended due to a fight the previous Friday night, the Laker bench was thinned to three men, and Seattle wasted no time in jumping out to a double-digit first-quarter lead.

Then? Then it happened.

By it, I mean the single greatest dunk in Seattle SuperSonics history. The crowd was at a Nigel Tufnel-11, screaming for Los Angeles blood, relishing every turnover, every made shot with an intensity almost never seen in regular season games. This was the Lakers, man! And we’re winning! On a Sunday!

Following another run of Sonic points early in the second quarter, Seattle forced a turnover, with Nate McMillan and the X-Man racing up court as the crowd roared them along. Approaching the basket, McMillan slowed slightly, awaiting the perfect moment to feed McDaniel.

Finally, he could wait no longer. The young point guard lofted the ball up, seemingly too far back for X to grab, and a thousand throats clinched in the stadium, thousands more at home.

Yet reach McDaniel did, so far back you thought he would dislocate his shoulder from the exertion. That overzealous feed from McMillan was the perfect recipe, though, as the extra momentum McDaniel’s arm received from starting so far back provided even more ammunition for the thunderous dunk that was to follow, a dunk so powerful that Pat Riley signaled for timeout before the ball hit the floor.

At that moment, at that time, you could have fed me a bottle of cyanide and I’ve have died a happy boy. Sunday afternoon, national TV, the Sonics beating the Lakers to a pulp, the X-Man dunking so hard it’s making my ears hurt, I mean, what more could you possibly ask for?

Sadly, X’s 35-point performance that Sunday afternoon wasn’t enough, and Seattle’s first half lead disappeared in the second half. The Sonics, despite their 17-game win streak at home, were not the Lakers, and Magic’s 19 free throws were enough to convert a debacle into a classic Lakers road victory.

For that moment, though, Xavier McDaniel was all a 15-year-old fan could want. He was power, he was cool, he was X. Part of me wishes video evidence of the dunk existed somewhere on the internet, but another part of me prefers watching it in my mind, for fear that the real thing would fall short of my memories.

Xavier McDaniel – the X-Man – was more than the thug people saw in New York, he was more than the cartoon character peering out from the infamous Costacos brother poster, he was more than a goofy cameo on “Singles.”

Xavier McDaniel was a marvelous combination of powerful dunks and graceful turnaround jumpers, and he was our hero.

Wildcatters

You no doubt recall the uncovered emails during the run-up to the Sonics’ trial, but you’ll be forgiven if you missed one in particular, in which Clay Bennett bemoaned the Seattle media’s attack-dog nature. In the email, the square-jawed one called the local scribes the “worst in the country,” because, as you know, Clay Bennett is the foremost authority on American media.

To Bennett, raised in Oklahoma City, it was an unwelcome and unfamiliar phenomenon. You see, when your wife’s family owns the media, you tend to see more flattering stories about yourself, and you don’t tend to run into people like Greg Johns and Percy Allen.

You know, objective journalists.

It was with that memory in mind that I read this story on NPR’s website (hat tip to Raf for not listening to KUBE on the ride home yesterday).

In essence, the story revolves around Chesapeake Energy’s (helmed by one Aubrey Mcclendon) efforts to drill for natural gas in the center of Fort Worth, Texas, despite the protestations of the local citizens.

To combat the protests, Chesapeake has gone all out in its media campaign, hiring Tommy Lee Jones to pitch for them, and even going so far as to create “Shale TV,” a daily talk show about the situation. Obviously, despite the presence of some hired-gun local journalists to run the show, most people would be a little skeptical about the news you would get from this type of source. But let Julie Wilson, a Chesapeake communications honcho, explain:

"Well, I think we pay those journalists — whether on Channel 8 or Channel 11 or the Star-Telegram — in terms of advertising support," Wilson says. "We see this as pretty much instead of running the ads on the program, we're just writing the check direct."

Congrats, NBA, you’ve got yourself one heckuva ownership group there.

Jim Caple: Lowering the Bar Once Again

You will read many stupid stories in the weeks ahead about the Olympics, but none will exceed the stupidity of Jim Caple's latest at espn.com.

To wit:

Sportswriters moaning about Internet firewalls and governmental snooping in Beijing are both flattering themselves that a Chinese bureaucratic gnome actually cares what we write about LeBron James' shooting percentage ...

Actually, Jim, nobody in any country wants to read your drivel. What the complaints are centered around is the fact China blocks sites such as the BBC, and not because of sports reporting, but because of political reporting on stories within China.

And yes, Beijing is so polluted there may be more toxic waste at the Games than at any sporting event since Lenny Dykstra retired. But Vancouver, which hosts the next Winter Games, dumps untreated sewage into coastal waters.

I live in Vancouver, and I can confirm that, yes, Vancouver does dump sewage into its waters. But to compare Beijing's skies to Vancouver's waters - wow, that's a leap of idiocy only a Bush Administration official would attempt.

For its faults, the nation continually offers more options and freedom to its citizens than one or two generations before.

So, if I understand correctly, a woman whose husband previously beat and raped her should be happy when he only beats her? That's called improvement?

You can color these Olympics any way you choose, but the fact remains that the China is the most repressive nation to have hosted the Olympics since the USSR in 1980 or Germany in 1936. The fact Jim Caple gets to stay in swanky hotels and eat dinner on ESPN's dime doesn't change any of that, in spite of all of his whimsical nonsense.