# attachment[].name
Stylelized photo of Jonathan Furphy dunking the ball in a preseason game against the Oklahoma City Thunder.

# content
The Exciting Whites were at it again on Saturday night as Johnny Furphy threw down a monstrous dunk. It was a preseason game for the Indiana Pacers, but that doesn’t detract from the enjoyment of art wherever it is found.

It was powerful, it posterized, and it caused Quinn Buckner’s brain to reboot in real time, as our friend Jon LaFollette, formerly of Miller Time Podcast, put it.

https://www.instagram.com/p/DPsBoe5jOjD/?img_index=1&igsh=MTFpY2lzcGg5bm0xeA==

Plays like that electrify the arena, set the bench ablaze in celebration, and just feel good as a fan.

It also was… assigned a score by the NBA?

https://www.instagram.com/p/DPtdWsljsW2/?igsh=anpteXF3a2l2bmZj

That just feels wrong to me.

This is the sort of thing I would argue is using technology for the sake of showing you can. I understand what jump, power, style, and contest mean, but scoring a dunk with computers reduces the art of dunking to a number, not a feeling. These numbers are tucked away on the NBA.com website, but nonetheless, electricity and computing power were used to produce them.

But why? Do we really need this? Do we need AI-generated videos of Will Smith eating spaghetti? Do we need a number on a play that is more about what it makes us feel than what it is in itself? And again, this was just a preseason play, one worth no more than most jump shots or even its less-regarded brother, the layup. All it was was really a moment in time that provided happiness to the Pacers and their fans.

The answer is no. And not just because it’s raising the cost of your power bill.

Outside of a dunk contest, I don’t need a score for a dunk. My eyes can tell me it looked amazing because it was over a defender. I can see and feel the power as Furphy slams it home. My ears can tell me how nasty it was based on Quinn Buckner’s uncontrollable enthusiasm. I also know it happened in a preseason game, so it hardly needs to be remembered in Pacers history, even if it was picturesque.

https://twitter.com/ipacersblog/status/1977158250681241651?s=12

Using analytics or tech is best when it helps cut through the noise of statistics or when it illustrates the probability (or improbability) of something happening. When it reinforces what we know or shows us something we might not be able to realize with our own eyes, it is a great tool that adds to the conversation.

But when we try to simplify everything with a number, it gives detractors a reason to dismiss it as lesser. It can be a thief of joy even to those who love it. When we use tech to try to assign value to something, or are equally destructive in only valuing wins and nothing else in sports, it takes away from the fun that brought us to basketball in the first place.

Analytics can tell us how close defenders are, what that does to field goal percentages, and why average players should avoid these less fruitful areas of the court, like the mid-range. But for some players, they are the ones who should take riskier shots to break up defenses intently focused on the rim and the arc. If you can only understand analytics as a road map, you aren’t creative enough to find alternate routes to win once other teams adjust.

Some people will dismiss the Pacers’ run to a Game 7 last year as a failure for simply losing to another great team. They won’t see value in a team that was good enough to win an NBA title and fell short, partially due to a heartbreaking injury. They will ignore the pure fun of that Indiana team, one that constantly proved its critics and statistical probability models to be imperfect.

Those people miss out on the fun of ridiculous game-winning shot after unlikely game-winning shot and what they meant in those moments. The joy that brought even the most cyclical of Pacers fans who had given up on believing such a season was possible.

For that or this dunk, I don’t need them ranked among the top dunks in Pacers history, whether by humans or my computers. We don’t have to put a number on the joy a moment brings you.

I don’t need anything but that dose of dopamine pumped into my brain when the Pacers win in the playoffs or an Aussie posterizes someone in a preseason game.

We know the difference between a win and a loss, a good shot or a bad shot, a preseason moment or one in the NBA Finals, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t enjoy them as they happen.

-#31-

Rate this:

# contentMap.en
The Exciting Whites were at it again on Saturday night as Johnny Furphy threw down a monstrous dunk. It was a preseason game for the Indiana Pacers, but that doesn’t detract from the enjoyment of art wherever it is found.

It was powerful, it posterized, and it caused Quinn Buckner’s brain to reboot in real time, as our friend Jon LaFollette, formerly of Miller Time Podcast, put it.

https://www.instagram.com/p/DPsBoe5jOjD/?img_index=1&igsh=MTFpY2lzcGg5bm0xeA==

Plays like that electrify the arena, set the bench ablaze in celebration, and just feel good as a fan.

It also was… assigned a score by the NBA?

https://www.instagram.com/p/DPtdWsljsW2/?igsh=anpteXF3a2l2bmZj

That just feels wrong to me.

This is the sort of thing I would argue is using technology for the sake of showing you can. I understand what jump, power, style, and contest mean, but scoring a dunk with computers reduces the art of dunking to a number, not a feeling. These numbers are tucked away on the NBA.com website, but nonetheless, electricity and computing power were used to produce them.

But why? Do we really need this? Do we need AI-generated videos of Will Smith eating spaghetti? Do we need a number on a play that is more about what it makes us feel than what it is in itself? And again, this was just a preseason play, one worth no more than most jump shots or even its less-regarded brother, the layup. All it was was really a moment in time that provided happiness to the Pacers and their fans.

The answer is no. And not just because it’s raising the cost of your power bill.

Outside of a dunk contest, I don’t need a score for a dunk. My eyes can tell me it looked amazing because it was over a defender. I can see and feel the power as Furphy slams it home. My ears can tell me how nasty it was based on Quinn Buckner’s uncontrollable enthusiasm. I also know it happened in a preseason game, so it hardly needs to be remembered in Pacers history, even if it was picturesque.

https://twitter.com/ipacersblog/status/1977158250681241651?s=12

Using analytics or tech is best when it helps cut through the noise of statistics or when it illustrates the probability (or improbability) of something happening. When it reinforces what we know or shows us something we might not be able to realize with our own eyes, it is a great tool that adds to the conversation.

But when we try to simplify everything with a number, it gives detractors a reason to dismiss it as lesser. It can be a thief of joy even to those who love it. When we use tech to try to assign value to something, or are equally destructive in only valuing wins and nothing else in sports, it takes away from the fun that brought us to basketball in the first place.

Analytics can tell us how close defenders are, what that does to field goal percentages, and why average players should avoid these less fruitful areas of the court, like the mid-range. But for some players, they are the ones who should take riskier shots to break up defenses intently focused on the rim and the arc. If you can only understand analytics as a road map, you aren’t creative enough to find alternate routes to win once other teams adjust.

Some people will dismiss the Pacers’ run to a Game 7 last year as a failure for simply losing to another great team. They won’t see value in a team that was good enough to win an NBA title and fell short, partially due to a heartbreaking injury. They will ignore the pure fun of that Indiana team, one that constantly proved its critics and statistical probability models to be imperfect.

Those people miss out on the fun of ridiculous game-winning shot after unlikely game-winning shot and what they meant in those moments. The joy that brought even the most cyclical of Pacers fans who had given up on believing such a season was possible.

For that or this dunk, I don’t need them ranked among the top dunks in Pacers history, whether by humans or my computers. We don’t have to put a number on the joy a moment brings you.

I don’t need anything but that dose of dopamine pumped into my brain when the Pacers win in the playoffs or an Aussie posterizes someone in a preseason game.

We know the difference between a win and a loss, a good shot or a bad shot, a preseason moment or one in the NBA Finals, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t enjoy them as they happen.

-#31-

Rate this:

# name
Johnny Furphy’s preseason dunk is worth more than two points

# nameMap.en
Johnny Furphy’s preseason dunk is worth more than two points

# icon.name
Stylelized photo of Jonathan Furphy dunking the ball in a preseason game against the Oklahoma City Thunder.

# image.name
Stylelized photo of Jonathan Furphy dunking the ball in a preseason game against the Oklahoma City Thunder.

# preview.content
I don’t need anything but that dose of dopamine pumped into my brain when the Pacers win in the playoffs or an Aussie posterizes someone in a preseason game.

# summary
I don’t need anything but that dose of dopamine pumped into my brain when the Pacers win in the playoffs or an Aussie posterizes someone in a preseason game.

# summaryMap.en
I don’t need anything but that dose of dopamine pumped into my brain when the Pacers win in the playoffs or an Aussie posterizes someone in a preseason game.