Shooting Two: Rituals Of The Modern Player

NBA players will tell you that in basketball there is free throw shooting, and there is everything else. In everything else, a player reacts to whatever the ball and other players are doing. Players are instinctive—until they step to the free throw line. Then they have more time on their hands than they know what to do with. That leads to rituals, superstitions, mantras and prayer. Some current examples:

Steve Smith of the Hawks has a bell with a star on either side tattooed on his right biceps. Above the design is the surname of his late mother, Bell, and below it is the name of his sister, Janice, who was murdered when Steve was seven. He touches the tattoo for good luck before shooting a free throw. It must be working. Through Saturday he was an .856 foul shooter this season, .831 for his career.

Karl Malone of the Jazz bounces the ball two dozen times or so and talks to it before shooting, using at least 9-9 of the 10 allotted seconds, sometimes more. (The 10-second rule is almost never called.) Malone won't reveal what he says to the ball, though he will say that he changes his mantra periodically. In 1997 The Salt Lake Tribune hired two lip readers to decipher Malone 's private mumblings. They came up with the following: "This is for Karl, Karl, my baby boy." Well, Junior's two years old now, and Daddy has moved on to new sayings. Malone started his foul line monologues after his first two years in the NBA , during which he was a .548 free throw shooter. Through Saturday he was averaging .746 for the 11 years since he began muttering, .759 this season.

If anybody comes closer than Malone to being called on the 10-second rule, it's Alonzo Mourning , the Heat center. He dribbles a few times, leisurely wipes his sweatbands across his forehead, fiddles with the ball to find just the right seams, waits for you to get back to the TV from fixing a sandwich and finally fires. He shoots free throws reasonably well, with a career average of .720, .667 this season. But he incurs the wrath of sportswriters on deadline and of opposing coaches who want the time violation called. Magic coach Chuck Daly has been known to loudly count off the ticking seconds while Mourning does his foul-line preening.

Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf of the Kings is a slave to routine, like most good foul shooters. Abdul-Rauf suffers from Tourette's syndrome, which can create an intense subconscious need for repetition. His method never varies. He dribbles the ball twice and catches it. He dribbles the ball three more times, spins it in his hands, finds the seams and shoots. "I got the spin from watching Michael Jordan , how calm he seemed at the line, the rhythm he had," Abdul-Rauf says. Abdul-Rauf from the line: .909 career, 1.000 this season on only 16 tries. His Royal Airness: .839 career, .786 this year.

Mark Jackson of the Pacers puts his right index finger to his mouth and then points his right hand toward the basket, not unlike Babe Ruth calling a home run. Jackson uses the hand as an aiming device. Also, he is one of the few players to stand off-center at the foul line. Jackson was a .766 career free throw shooter (.762 this season), below average for a guard.

You might think that the closer you stood to the hoop, the easier the shot. Rasheed Wallace of the Trail Blazers thinks otherwise. He stands a foot behind the foul line. Why? It's just what makes him comfortable. There's no rush by other players to step back from the line. Wallace 's career foul shooting percentage, .648 (.658 this season), might be the reason.

Jeff Hornacek of the Jazz is among the most consistent free throw shooters. His career percentage, .872, was the fourth highest among active players and ninth alltime. (He was shooting .891 this season.) His form is out of a textbook, with one little oddity that makes it distinctly his own: He brushes his right cheek with the palm of his shooting hand twice before he shoots. It's his way of beaming a "Hi" to his kids from arenas around the country.

Anthony Mason of the Hornets is a subpar free throw shooter—his career average was .686, and this season's mark was .637—with extraordinary form. As he raises the ball from waist-to head-high, he looks like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz. His knees bend and his shoulders twist in a way that suggests his lower and upper body are independent. Then he props the ball in his open left hand, hesitates and releases it with no warning, seemingly having waited for inspiration. As a result, his teammates and opponents draw dozens of lane violations each season.