Elite

In which the Liberty show what they're capable of

Liberty 104 - Dream 90

Somebody alert the bodega TVs that have been playing OG Anunoby’s offensive rebound on perma-loop: New York basketball has produced another clip for the ages. I speak, of course, of Astier’s halftime buzzer beater from beyond half court. My phone erupted, my daughter (who was allegedly on her way to bed) started jumping on the couch while chanting Nas-ti-er!

What if this is who we are?? At other points this year I’ve asked this question in the mournful tones of a New England preacher, but after watching us shellack Atlanta last night, I shout it like someone hanging out a balcony on Bourbon Street.

Some notes from the most significant win of the season so far:

Astier was, even aside from that heave, extraordinary. She started the game with a textbook assist through congestion to a waiting Leo in the corner. She yet again put the game out of reach in the fourth quarter with driving layups that quite possibly zero other Liberty (maybe Gardner? Johannes?) would have been able to finish. I don’t know what her role is when Sabrina comes back, but if she doesn’t get significant minutes I’ll be rewatching these games like old home videos.

JJ was quite good, despite foul trouble, and the most encouraging part was that she yet again seemed to find the act of being ferocious on defense (three blocks) to be engaging enough to steer her through her frustrations. Her foul trouble ended up being one of the subplots of the game, because Carrera kept having to spell her, and Angel Reese kept making Carrera look the way Phoenix, last year, made Meesseman look. Which is to say, for those not still traumatized by that experience, slow and soft and hopeless. Carrera has a role on this team, but probably not against power forwards with mean streaks.

Speaking of which: Satou Sabally! What fun it is to finally have a villain of our own. She and Angel Reese were barking at each other all night (“Be respectful!” Angel repeatedly shouted at her at one point.) She and Reese both committed violent acts with elbows. And she (while we left Reese insultingly open outside) hit a cluster of 3’s (five of six!) that squelched any notion of a Dream comeback. The difference in how I feel when Satou does too-small versus how I feel when anyone does it to us is demonstration #1001 of the craven hypocrisy of the sports fan.

Breanna — who joined JJ in the double-double circle — was brilliant. I’ve been less ecstatic than most about her recent stretch of dominance — it’s felt a bit ugly and clunky to me; her finding a way to score rather than simply scoring. But this was a fluid and lovely game from her. She swooped around helpless defenders under the basket, she made her little kick-herself-in-the-butt paint jumpers. Multiple times she grabbed a rebound with such force that whatever teammate was standing near her raised her hands in startled deference. (Also I want to know what she and Kolb were talking about so excitedly after the final buzzer, by which point the arena had all buzz of the Y on Atlantic.)

Gardner was characteristically excellent, with characteristic understatement. She hit a 3, managed multiple tricky layups, grabbed improbable and timely rebounds. She is our team’s caulk gun, quietly filling in gaps, but she is a caulk gun so precious that they keep it behind the counter at the hardware store.

Johannes — who shot five of six, with 3’s constituting only half of her attempts — was, from the tipoff, up to something interesting. She seems to have remembered, or been reminded, that she’s allowed to score from all over the court, not just the corners. Her continuing evolution from a streaky novelty (bring her in, let her fling up a one-legged three, take her out) into a reliable offensive resource has been one of the surprises and delights of the season.

Leo’s offense is a wreck. She managed to hit a couple of 3’s, but I hold my breath whenever she has the ball near the basket. Here is my image for her year so far: she is a sniper standing outside the castle, chewing a crust of bread, stoically staring out into the cold darkness with her rifle on her shoulder. One of us leans out the castle door and invites her in — we’ve got lots of food, it’s warm in here, come dance! So, with the shyest of smiles, she steps inside, rests her gun beside the fireplace, and picks up a plate of food — and immediately trips, spattering the wall with sauce, shattering dishware, crashing into nobility. I keep praying that someone on DeMarco’s crew — with their gift for polishing the latent potential in Han or Johannes or whoever — will turn their attentions to her.

But don’t let my gripes detract from the glories of the night. This was a great win against a very good team that was playing well. Reese had 25 and 9, Rhyne Howard was hitting 3’s every time we started to get comfortable, Allisha Gray was doing her hyper speed thing — and we were simply better.

See you back at Barclays for Ellie’s [age redacted] birthday.

[A programming note: I’ll be traveling for the next week. Wifi and Liberty Live proxy-servers willing, I’ll be watching and writing from the road, but in the event that all systems collapse, please eat leftover metaphors from the pantry until my return.]