Joe Johnson And The Definitions Of Swagger

I'm 24 years of age and am still not sure what the word "swagger" means. I have a general idea, but like all words, it becomes co-opted by various groups of people and undergoes a contextual transformation. For our purposes here, "swagger" will be discussed as a noun rather than a verb. According to The Merriam-Webster Dictionary, swagger is defined as:

     A very confident and typically arrogant or aggressive gait or manner.

An entry on UrbanDictionary.com takes the definition a step further, suggesting that swagger is not just an inherent attitude, but a reflection of one's appearance:

     The confidence exuded as a reflection of one's dress, shoe game, attitude, and how one handles a situation.

Rapper T.I., in his song "56 Bars," jokingly takes this another step further, referencing "swag" as an entity separate from the human being it represents:

     Somebody better tell 'em mane / They swag owe my swag everything / Very plain to see you study me awful hard / To the point that my swag need a bodyguard

Naturally, Atlanta's Joe Johnson would use such a layered, sometimes conflicting term to credit the Hawks' success. "I just think our swagger is a little bit different," Johnson told TNT's David Aldridge after Atlanta's 103-95 road win. "This is the post season, not the regular season."

The differentiation of the term usually boils down to whether swagger is something inherent, or always there; versus being a reflection of success, and only there when things are going well. So it's no surprise that Johnson speaks of his team's swagger as if it's a light switch in a dark room. The Atlanta Hawks have acquired the reputation of an all-or-nothing team. They're either going to play really well or very poorly, and probably lose interest at some point either way.

The question then is can the Hawks summon the magical swag they've found just in time for the Playoffs when they don't jump out to a 9-0 lead on the road and shoot 54 percent from behind the arc? Will 120-million dollar man Joe Johnson be able to make a positive impact on the floor when the Bulls are closing out better, and he's not hitting his shot? Most of us don't think so because the Hawks or Johnson haven't given us a reason to.

Atlanta's ability to hold on late in the 4th quarter in Game 6 of the Magic series was a necessary first step towards shedding their losing ways, or lack of swagger, whatever you want to call it. The Atlanta I remember would have tripped over the coffee table while reaching for the light switch. Now they have to do it again, and despite a 1-0 series lead, I bank on the old Atlanta showing up.

In the words of Sporting News' Sean Deveney, "Swagger is good, but it won't necessarily lead to a deep postseason run." Amen. Bulls in five.

Day 4: Magic vs. Hawks (Game 2)

I think of Dwight Howard as an aggressive driver. He has a vision of where he wants to go but is constantly impeded by basketball's version of "No Left Turn" signs, slow drivers, and radar-gun-toting police officers. Howard wants to take his sweet ass time on the free throw line. He wants to swing the ball over his head but a defender's cheek bone is always in the way. He wants to run the floor and establish quick low-post position, but there's always a smaller, inferior player waiting to flop into the third row. Howard recognizes the game's expansiveness but is unable to adapt to the traffic cones scattered across the court.

Worse yet, Howard doesn't trust the police...er....referees. He believes they are out to get him. Watch how LeBron, Wade, or 2011 Derrick Rose operate. They're confident that when the time comes, they can force the referee to rule in their favor. Howard operates with the knowledge that it's him against the world. He'll receive a blow to the ribs or a slap across the face and can do nothing but flash that incredulous stare. He knows that the slightest, well, slight of the referee's hand will get him T'd up, and still is unable to contain himself.

But make no mistake, Howard has been contained. It could be his personality or it could be his wavering confidence in the ref's ability to protect him, but we're not seeing Howard fully realized. He's arguably the most dominant player in the game and there is not one NBA observer who thinks he couldn't be more dominant. Will Howard learn to suppress his aggressiveness just enough to avoid the squad car nestled within the bushes? Can he recognize where the squad cars typically hide? Or will he be content as the driver of a Maserati, going 45 miles per hour along with the Camrys?   

The Magic will always be about Howard. At least until he bolts to LA, anyway. His teammates can sometimes be nothing more than scenery. Dwight could morph into 1962 Wilt Chamberlain, average 50 and 25 a night (not as much of a stretch as it seems playing 48 minutes a night), and the Magic would still lose. Howard does his thing, but Orlando is still viewed as a team that lives and dies at the three-point line. Howard's defense and offensive numbers are constant but it is Orlando's three-point shooting that puts them over the top.

How then, did they win Game 2 after draining only five of their 23 three-pointers? Unexpected contributions from Howard, of course. Forget about Dwight's numbers, Atlanta has defended him masterfully in this series so far. They've refused to double team him, allowing the four-headed monster (Jason Collins, Etan Thomas, Josh Powell, and Zaza Pachulia) to go one-on-one. All four have enough size and strength (and six fouls) to hang with Howard for the required five to twenty minutes. Collins in particular has done a great job of stripping the ball from Howard in the post. Dwight already has 15 turnovers in two games, in large part due to Collins' active hands.

The Hack-A-Howard strategy backfired on Atlanta in Game Two. Howard, who shot 59 percent from the line this year, went 15-19 from the line. Sure, Jason Richardson's three to put Orlando up seven with just over a minute to play was the biggest shot of the game. Al Horford's early foul trouble and subsequent inability to get into the flow of the game was huge. The fact that Howard only attempted 12 shots is a painful reminder that even he can disappear during crucial stretches of a game. But ultimately, Howard's free throw shooting was the difference. That's probably not what Orlando wants to rely on to win a game.

Howard has sat out TWO minutes through the first TWO games. The Magic barely came out with a win from their home court advantage. Exactly how many of his teammates can Howard pile into that Maserati? It is on the verge of breaking down.