The Jarron Collins Defense Mechanism

This is a Stonefish.

Besides being a particularly ugly little thing, the stonefish is notable for being the most venomous fish in the world. It has a series of little tiny spines which will inject predators with venom if stepped upon, a situation particularly disturbing to its opponents since it blends in with the rock bottom. It can be--and has been--fatal to humans.

Of course, this should not be held against the stonefish. It is one of many types of animals that have found ways to survive in the cruel world of nature. We are all familiar with the documentaries produced for elementary schools that describe the defense mechanisms of various animals across the world. Some bugs resemble the leaves in which they make their homes. Some animals secrete toxins that are either venomous or taste horrible. Learning to survive in harsh conditions is a fact of life.

This is a Jarron Collins.

Those readers that are fans of the Jazz are well aware of Jarron Collins, or at least know that he exists. The average NBA fan, however, has nary a clue. Ask a casual NBA fan--let's call him something innocuous, let's say, Tim Legler--which Jazz players played all 82 games in the season, and they would likely answer: "Kirilenko? Boozer? That guy that looks like Mr. Big?" The answer, actually, is Paul Millsap, Derek Fisher, and Jarron Collins.

This would be surprising because most people--and even some Jazz fans--are little aware that Jarron Collins a.)exists, b.)is locked up for the Jazz until the '08/'09 season at around 2.5-million per year, and c.)is one of the more consistently-used players on the Jazz roster.

"Well," Tim says, with a half-sneer along the lines of Dennis Hopper in Waterworld, "Jerry Sloan is a great coach. If Jarron plays that much, Sloan must have a reason."

Here's the tricky part: Jerry Sloan probably doesn't even know who Jarron Collins is! Why do I say this?

Jarron Collins' Per-40 stats:
PPG: 8.9
FG%: 44.1
RPG: 7.5
APG: 2.6
BPG: .35 (!)
SPG: .57

Those aren't just average numbers. Those are aggressively average numbers. Though he is almost seven feet tall, if he played 40 minutes a night, he would get a block every third game. And yet, he plays 11 MPG every game. [disclaimer: with his complete knack for botching everything, Jerry finally gave Jarron his first DNP: Coach's Decision in Game One of the Golden State series. Dammit, Jerry, I'm trying to make a point, here.] How could a player with some minuscule and unnoticeable production get a steady job--through '08/'09, no less--while other teammates are either fighting for any minutes at all--Brewer--or struggling to keep the minutes they have--AK?

Answer?

This is a chameleon.

While other animals have their stingers, spikes, odors, chemicals, little-dots-that-look-like-eyes-on-the-butts, and so on, the chameleon survives by blending perfectly with its surroundings. A casual glance at the situation won't even reveal that an animal is in the area. Predators--hopefully--don't notice the chameleon and pass on to more obvious prey. In other words, chameleons have mastered the ancient Ninja Art of Invisibility.

Jarron Collins is the Utah Jazz equivalent of the chameleon.

In the strange little world of Jerry Sloan, any highly visible screw up--an athletic shot attempt that misses, a blown defensive assignment when gambling, a turnover on a tricky pass--can result in an immediate and devastating attack on the player's minutes. The multiple Jazz system tropes uttered after a win--"ran the plays," "looking out for each other," "needed contributions from everyone"--aren't just meaningless blurbs designed to quiet the media. They're meaningless blurbs designed to cover the player's ass from Jerry. Want an example? Look at AK. Here is a guy that makes incredibly risky plays on a night-in/night-out basis, and now he's a nervous wreck that can't make a move without fearing reprisal. But then again, he's married to Masha Kirilenko, which probably has produced similar results.

No, Jarron Collins has it figured out. If he doesn't shoot, he can't miss. If he doesn't leave his feet, he can't obviously lose a rebound or miss a block. If he doesn't pass, he can't turn the ball over (in theory). In effect, by being completely average, he disappears. And Sloan sticks to his old routine, regularly inserting the same completely ineffectual player in at the end of the first quarter or beginning of the second and pulling him out a few minutes later. Why not? He doesn't make any moves easily seen as negative to the team. And on the Jazz, that shows up more than making positive contributions.

Cracks can and do appear in the facade of Jarron Collins. Occasionally, something will happen that makes some shadowy black figure appear in the midst of the Jazz lineup where previously there was none:

"Hey, did Earl Watson just block that tall guy?" "Yeah, I think that was Jarron."
"Who was that guy that banked in a 20 foot straight-on jumper?" "Collins."
"Did Jarron Collins really ask for more minutes after actually hitting a few shots?"

But Collins quickly retreats into his Cloak of Invisibility, and the only time his name is mentioned is when something is wrong.

Other players have picked up on Jarron's habits, but have been unable to put his principles into full effect. The most obvious is Matt Harpring. In theory, Matt Harpring is nothing but the human embodiment of The System (and a potato). He gets open for layups, hits jumpers off screens, says nothing of note in interviews, and ends up on the floor at the fall of a Matt. But unlike Collins, he has been unable to completely learn the Art of Invisibility.

He has, however, developed a different defense mechanism based on that of Collins. As he becomes visible, he obscures the situation with a cloud of blame. Missed layup? Arms go out to side, faces ref. Missed defensive assignment? Fake a slip, jump past the player two seconds later. Misses a catch on a pass? Teammate gets the stinkeye. An example of my personal favorite Harp Defense occurred during last night's game. As Harpring turned the ball over in the fourth quarter, the Warriors had an obvious fast break opportunity heading the other way. As the camera panned to follow, Harpring could clearly be seen falling in the opposite direction of the action. There is absolutely no logical reason for this to happen. What are we to assume? The TO happened because of the damned floor. Floor, receive a stinkeye.

This is an octopus.

Like the octopus, Harpring has learned the value of disappearing. When Harpring perceives a threat, he shoots forth his inky cloud and disappears quietly back into the System. The recipients of the stinkeye, still blinking back tears (read: AK), find themselves standing alone as the cloud clears, and Sloan hooks them to the bench like so much trout.

As is my wont, I was going to wrap this up into some tidy Principle or Rule. The Jarron Principle, I would exclaim merrily from the steeple of my apartment, is that it is better to not be noticed at all than to be noticed for a negative contribution. Unfortunately, there is a player that defies all categorization. A player that fits no mold. A player that leads one to emit utterances of pure four-lettered awe. Yes, I speak of no less than Derek Fisher.

This is a peacock.

Like the peacock, the Derek Fisher is gaudy, extravagant, blindingly visible, flightless, and of no use whatsoever. At a bare minimum, Derek Fisher will have three plays per game that will have me shaking my fist at a television screen, tears of anger streaming down my cheeks and into my Vault, which then tastes salty, leading to a continual cycle of sorrow. I would say he breaks plays, but that would imply he knows what the plays are. His "defense" on Tracy McGrady generally involved standing in the background of the camera shot as his four teammates scrambled to cover. He has blown more fast breaks than Milt Palacio. And he played 28 MPG and hit 38.2% of his shots. He's not average, he's sub-average. He's...bad.

No, Fisher fits not into the Jarron Principle, but the Principle, otherwise, is sound. (For Fisher to be understood, he must be viewed under an entirely different analytical framework. [COMING SOON!!!]) When you sit up in your chair as some body sprawls under the basket as an opposing player makes a drive, that ghostly figure might be Jarron Collins. When you see some spectre toss a ball limp-armed at the rim, missing badly, that might be Jarron Collins. When you hear the wind whisper in your ear as you lay amidst the golden spring daffodils...I don't really know what the hell it is.

But it might be Jarron Collins.