Steer the Beard

They say to defend between your man and the basket. But what’s the point when the world’s best scorer goes not forward toward the rim—not always, anyway—but sideways, all herky jerky, and backwards, too? The game moves differently now, thanks largely to James Harden. His trademark step-back is everywhere—Damian Lillard just comfortably launched one from 37 feet. The direction of basketball is changing, and if that’s true, then staying in front of your man may be played out. It’s time to rethink defense.

Throughout the season, a handful of teams tried. In January, the Lakers introduced the idea of defense without hands against Harden. That didn’t stick. Other teams, including the Bucks, tried forcing the lefty to his right. That worked better, and in the first round of these playoffs, the Jazz took that notion and pushed it to the extreme, play after play. It was a sight to behold, both amusing and effective. On many half-court sets, the Jazz challenged Harden—the 36 point per game scorer—by not challenging him at all, at least not at first. Often, he was met at the top of the key by Ricky Rubio or Royce O’Neale, who would slide behind him, hovering beside his lethal left arm. Nobody blocked his immediate path, setting fire to a century of defensive handbooks.

Harden couldn’t step back, since there was already a guy standing right there, or even drive left, as he loves to do. Through what I’ll call their “free-release” defense, the Jazz invited Harden to waltz toward the rim, toward Utah’s one great hope: Rudy Gobert, the all-world rim protector. Amid this unusual arrangement, Harden struggled to find comfort zones, a rarity for him. In Game 3, he missed 15 shots before making one. In Game 5, he opened 1-of-11. Nothing—not the scheme nor Harden’s failings—made much sense to the naked eye.

Utah’s gameplan, much like Harden’s signature offense, was unconventional, visually strange, difficult to love. Even some Jazz players struggled to embrace it at first. “When you see James Harden drive by you, that’s uncomfortable,” Jazz coach Quin Snyder said.  “You can either call that a blow by or you can call that making him drive, hopefully, into the teeth of our defense.”

That ambiguity played into Utah’s hands, time and again. Harden averaged 27.8 points per game in the series, down 8.3 from the regular season (his usage rate dipped slightly as well). The Rockets as a whole were kept below 105 points for three straight contests (Games 3-5), the first time that’s happened since December. Though the Jazz lost in five games, their heroic gimmick showed great promise. (The Jazz were but a couple of late buckets from sending the series back to Utah for Game 6, maybe even with a 3-2 lead.) The odd, passive scheme made Harden—whose scoring had been a foregone conclusion all season—think and grapple. He played someone else’s game—a postmodern one with a ridiculous premise. He did things he didn’t really want to do.

In the regular season, Harden’s isolation attack was dominant, and a historic outlier. He ran 1,280 isolation possessions, per Synergy Sports—the next most was 353. On those possessions, he went left 43.4 percent of the time, and scored an astounding 1.117 points per possession. That was a good deal better than his mark going right (0.981). So Utah took away the left. Against the Jazz, Harden drove that way just 10 percent of the time. In all, he wasn’t the same force he’d been as an iso creator through 82 games—dropping down into the echelons of D’Angelo Russell, Donovan Mitchell and other high-volume mortals. (Typically, if Harden were struggling in iso against a normal defense, the Rockets might counter with a pick-and-roll heavy plan, but that would be pointless against Utah’s free-release strategy. Pick and rolls are designed to match Harden against opposing big men and open up the floor. Utah was already offering that arrangement.)

Gobert deserves most of the credit. Many players could have done what Rubio or O’Neale did, which was, by traditional definition, play bad defense. But each time Harden was coaxed into the paint, Gobert, old reliable, would leap straight up with his record-setting wingspan. In Games 3 through 5, when the Jazz defense really clicked, Gobert blocked 12 shots to his 11 fouls.

“It’s on me to try to make him take the toughest shot and make the toughest pass as possible,” Gobert said after a Game 1 loss. Particularly later in the series, Gobert was brilliant at vacating the rim at the right time to challenge Harden’s shots. A quarter of Harden’s attempts in the half court were runners, per Synergy. That was roughly twice his regular season rate. The scoring champ converted just 6-of-21.

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If one stat could summarize Harden’s struggles against Utah, it may be this one: in isolation, he turned it over twice as often as he was fouled, per Synergy. That marked an amazing reversal—in the regular season, he was fouled twice as often as he turned it over in iso spots.

For the series, Harden averaged 7.4 free throw attempts per game. He averaged 11 attempts this past season and hasn’t averaged single-digit attempts since 2014. His signature ability to draw contact on three-point tries was neutralized by Utah’s free-release scheme. You can’t lunge toward a shooter and crash into his feet if you’re standing behind him when he shoots.

The bigger surprise was Harden’s high turnover rate—he tallied 20 assists to 17 turnovers in the final three games, an inspiringly flat mark. On the surface, it would seem that Utah’s defense, which sandwiched Harden between two defenders, would leave a Rocket open each time. But the Jazz did a nice job positioning each defender with purpose.

Take the scenario below, for example.

Kyle Korver is guarding a Rockets shooter, who is out of the frame. Harden’s defender is chasing him, per Snyder’s unusual request. Mitchell—before Harden even leaves the ground—is boxing out the Rockets 5-man, Kenneth Faried. Georges Niang is hedging between the ball and two perimeter shooters, ready to rotate wherever he’s needed.

As the above play unfolds, Harden tries a floater over Gobert, which doesn’t end well. But what else is Harden to do? The lob to Faried is taken away by Mitchell. A pass to Tucker would be intercepted. Harden could fire to the far, weak-side corner, but that means deferring to Austin Rivers (and those passing lanes close fast). The best shot available might be a free-throw line jumper by Harden—a mid-range look that cuts against Houston’s core philosophy.

On a similar play in Game 5, Tucker appears open in the same corner when Harden drives:

For Utah, Gobert is again preparing to take off, and Jae Crowder is tagging Capela under the rim, much as Mitchell did with Faried above. Joe Ingles stands near the arc to hedge and guard two shooters—this time Paul and Tucker. It’s a promising development for Houston. Rather than challenge Gobert, Harden tries to kick the ball into the corner, to Tucker. But the passing lane is an illusion. Ingles steals the ball:

Naturally, there were defensive lapses by Utah. Sometimes, Tucker was left open in the corner (2.8 threes per game this series, on 43.3 percent—up from 1.8 on 37.7 percent during the season), or Capela finished lobs, or the Rockets swung the ball to find an easy shot:

Overall, though, it’s hard to imagine any defensive gameplan working better against Houston. In games 3, 4 and 5, Rubio and O’Neale “guarded” Harden on 188 possessions. Harden made just 14-of-57 shots “against” them (24.5 percent). The Rockets as a team fared better—taking advantage of holes left open by the free-release D—scoring 181 points over those 188 possessions. But that’s less than one point per possession, and no NBA team scored that little during the regular season. For fleeting moments, Utah’s creative defense turned Houston into the NBA’s worst offense.

The Jazz couldn’t quite pull off an upset, largely because their own offense stalled; not once during the series did they reach their regular season scoring average. The Rockets’ next opponent—Golden State—won’t have the same problem.

Will the Warriors use the free-release scheme to slow Harden? That likely depends on whether they feel comfortable inviting him to the rim without a presence like Gobert to protect it. After all, Golden State’s conventional centers—Andrew Bogut and Kevon Looney—might fare more like Derrick Favors if asked to play Gobert’s part:

One solution might be to call on Kevin Durant, whose length most closely resembles Gobert’s, and who blocked nearly two shots per game last year. Particularly when the Warriors go to their smaller Death Lineup, it’s fair to expect at least a sprinkling of the free-release technique.

Perhaps the greater challenge awaits in the Finals, should Houston get there. The Eastern Conference favorite is a familiar foe, after all. Milwaukee, drawing from the mind of Eric Bledsoe, experimented with the free-release scheme in March. The Bucks can build it around either Giannis Antetokounmpo, in all his lengthy glory, or Brook Lopez, who blocked shots on par with Gobert all season, and paces the NBA so far in the postseason with 3.5 per game.

When they last played each other, the Bucks beat the Rockets by 14. It was Houston’s lowest post-All-Star point total. Afterward, Harden was asked what kind of impact Milwaukee’s odd defensive approach had on him. His answer? “None.”

Could be. But that was a month ago, after a single regular season game. The playoffs—and the Finals—will serve as the ultimate judge. The Jazz made a convincing case in favor of the free-release scheme. It’s on Harden to figure out where to move next.