Hardwood Paroxysm’s NBA Summer Jams Mixtape
Smooth Criminal by Michael Jackson, Recommended for Jason Kidd & Larry Drew
By Kris Fenrich (@dancingwithnoah)
What a summer for Jason Kidd! The new coach of the Milwaukee Bucks blithely disregarded the fact that the Bucks already had a coach in Larry Drew and pursued the job with the zealous ambition of a Machiavellian character. Like the unnamed assailant in Michael Jackson’s classic “Smooth Criminal,” a manipulatively ambitious Kidd took full advantage of security vulnerabilities to achieve his nefarious goals.
In “Smooth Criminal,” our villain easily sneaks through the window into the apartment of a woman – just like Kidd creeping up on an unsuspecting Drew. Where MJ’s brutalizer attacks the woman and likely leaves her for dead with “bloodstains on the carpet,” Kidd’s maneuvers spelled a metaphorical demise for Coach Drew who was defenseless against the pre-existing relationship between Kidd and Bucks’ owner Marc Lasry.
Sadly, there are no heroes found in the song or in the Milwaukee coaching drama. If you want justice, you need to check the video version of the song where the King of Pop chose to write himself into the role of a cosmic, otherworldly superhero capable of swashbuckling his way through a speakeasy full of heavy-handed misogynistic goons whose dress and dance will leave you impressed. Kidd and Drew and the Bucks franchise in general could’ve used a righteous hero like Jackson who knows how to treat the women with debonair style and chivalry – not to mention the ability to crush a pool ball (at 3:10) with his bare hand and shoot a would-be killer into space with his pistol (four-minute mark).
The tenor rises until around 5:20 when Michael breaks out a skylight with nothing but a gesture – and it’s completely believable at this point. This is something like a hedonistic cue to everyone else who, by this point, has joined Jackson’s dancing and pelvic thrusting. There’s a black cat walking across a piano, random moans, finger snapping, slow motion dancing, some kind of feverish religious orgy you might expect in a backwoods revival or a Dionysian funeral. The fever peaks around 6:15 when everyone starts yelling …. “Annie are you OK?” over and over. Men, women, basses, sopranos, “Annie are you OK?”
If you close your eyes and imagine a different set of circumstances, you can almost hear the chorus that Larry Drew never received begging, asking, “Larry, are you OK?”