Artists and Mechanics

Did I ever tell you about my theory of Artists and Mechanics? It's a beauty.

In short, I believe that the world is split into two groups: Artists and Mechanics. Some might call it right-brain and left-brain, but I think Artists and Mechanics is much more lyrical and descriptive. Artists tend to be big-picture types, unconcerned with mundane details. They're strong on the "why," but weaker on the "how." Process is irrelevant; experience is everything. An Artist would take you to a baseball game at Fenway Park and wax eloquent about the history of the Fens, the smell of the simmering sausages, and the deep-rooted passion of Red Sox Nation - but he has no idea what David Ortiz's batting average is, and will probably get off at the wrong T stop on the way home.

A Mechanic, on the other hand, thrives on process. The "how" supercedes the "why." Details bring joy. Learning how to accomplish a new task is a thrill. If we use golf as an example, a Mechanic would highlight passages from Jim McLean's "Eight Step Swing," and practice one specific move over and over again until muscle memory rendered it perfect, while an Artist would read "Golf in the Kingdom" twelve times and plan a trip to Ireland (doubly ironic, and typical of an Artist, because Shivas Irons was supposedly a Scot). Mechanics are methodical and repetitive, and terribly reliable.

Artists need Mechanics, and vice versa. One cannot survive without the other. I would submit that if you took a hard look at those friends in your life whom you consider to have truly healthy marriages, one spouse would be an Artist and the other a Mechanic. Artists need Mechanics to look up the directions to the Eiffel Tower. Mechanics need Artists to convince them to take the elevator to the top, and look around. In my life, my dad is a hard-core Mechanic, and my mom is a hopeless Artist. Closer to home, I am the Artist, and Mrs. Watson is a Mechanic, and thank God for her.

Run through your laundry list of your favorite athletes of all time, and you can easily peg each one as an Artist or a Mechanic. Lance Armstrong is perhaps the greatest Mechanic ever to strap on a pair of tight shorts. Ali was pure Artist. Michael Jordan looked for all the world like an Artist - and I'll admit he crossed over into that realm at times - but if you saw him practice, you knew he was a Mechanic at heart. Gretzky? Artist. Tiger Woods? Mechanic, by a mile. Joe Montana was an Artist, as was Steve Young, but Dan Marino, Troy Aikman, Payton Manning, and most other great NFL quarterbacks were Mechanics.

I don't claim to have come up with this completely on my own - I'm sure I read something somewhere that planted the seed of this theory - but I have worked hard to refine it, and I've never heard anyone else speak of it. There's a point to this.

Shaquille O'Neal is a Mechanic. Blessed with perhaps the most advanced set of physical gifts in the history of the NBA, he has, in the course of his thirteen professional seasons, mastered a grand total of three offensive moves:

1. Set up on left block, receive entry pass, turn over right shoulder to baseline, fallaway one-handed jumper.

2. Set up on left block, receive entry pass, turn over right shoulder to baseline, fake a fallaway one-handed jumper, step in for right-handed layup (because he has no left hand).

3. Set up on either block, receive entry pass, kick it back out, shove his butt into the midsection of the poor sap guarding him, bulldoze three feet closer to basket, receive another entry pass, dunk with two hands, make defender cry.

Understand that I am in no way knocking Shaq. He's a first-ballot Hall of Famer with those three moves, and potentially the most dominant center who will ever live. But as I said before, I believe that every Mechanic - even Shaq - needs an Artist. In Los Angeles, he had the Artist Known As Kobe, and it won him three rings. In Miami, he had Dwyane Wade (come on, anyone who spells his name like that MUST be an Artist), and he got one game away from the NBA Finals this year.

Here's why the rest of the league should be quivering tonight: the Heat just pulled off a deal to bring two more Artists and one more Mechanic to Miami.

Antoine Walker? Artist. Struggles with authority, takes whatever shot occurs to him at the moment, can play four positions when needed. The Heat got Twan at a bargain rate, nearing the twilight of his career, and may end up using him as a sixth man. Jason Williams, needless to say, is a preeminent Artist. He can make a bounce pass look like a Picasso painting. When he buys into what his coach is selling, as he did in Memphis under Hubie Brown (also an Artist), he can be a breathtakingly good point guard. Expect Pat Riley to move his office next to Williams' locker. James Posey, the other big name in the deal, is a Mechanic. Put him next to Miami native Udonis Haslem - maybe the hardest working Mechanic in the league today - and throw Artist Dwyane out there, and Miami is the whole picture.

Miami fans may be sad to see Eddie Jones go (6-7, shooting guard, Temple, Mechanic), but the Heat needed a lot more Artistry, and a little more Mechanical. They got both in the deal. And it all came about because Shaq, who once said he would never accept a below-market deal as Kevin Garnett once did in Minnesota, took less money to stay in Miami. Clearly, he saw the big picture.

Wait a minute. Maybe Shaq has a little Artist in him after all.