Lou Williams: Say No To Isolation

For about a month into the NBA season (maybe less for some people), nobody seemed to mind Louis Williams taking the final shot for the Toronto Raptors. He’s a streaky scorer, but great at creating space for himself and getting literally anything off whenever he wants to. He’s also one of the best in the league at getting opponents to bite on pump fakes.

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But after the Raptors’ crazy hot streak came to an end, Williams’ proclivity to take every single one of those shots started to become unnerving. It doesn’t matter what quarter it is, he will still take that shot. That’s who he is.

The odd part is that no one on the Raptors seems to mind. Instead, it’s the fans and media members who are watching and shaking their heads in disbelief. Sure, Lou has managed to knock down some of those attempts and he’s definitely a Sixth Man of the Year candidate, but most of the time it’s just not worth it to let him run down the clock, play isolation basketball and then toss up a clunker.

His teammates never seem upset with him for it. DeMar DeRozan and Kyle Lowry, the two best players on the team, never bark at him for it. They obviously don’t feel the need to take that shot for themselves.

And Dwane Casey especially has not given a flying hoot about what Lou does on offense. You can just see it in his eyes when he first glances at Williams to let him know it’s time for him to enter the game. He looks as if he’s about to turn a vicious dog loose.

Sometimes, he’s right. There have been lots of games where Lou has come in and been a difference maker. It’s why he should be leading the Sixth Man of the Year pack. But there have also been a great number of games (probably more than fans are willing to admit) in which Lou has just been downright awful. And when he’s bad, he’s really bad.

He’s the living definition of “shooters keep shooting.” He basically morphs into Dion Waiters 2.0, looking for his shot every time he gets the ball. If there were to be a documentary made about this phenomenon, it would have to be called Lou Williams: The Chuckening.

Ugh. A shiver just went down my spine.

But that’s how the Raptors deal with their erratic guard. You live by the Lou, you die by the Lou. Casey should change his motto to that instead of “Pound the Rock.”

This ideology peaked in Toronto’s game this past Tuesday against Detroit. With 5:41 left, DeRozan hit a jumper that put the Raps up 91-90. From there, it was a scratching and biting exhibition as the two clubs tried desperately to whack each other with a final haymaker.

With close to 10 seconds on the clock, Toronto had the last possession. They were down two. Plenty of time to call a play and set something up, right?

Wrong. Here’s what happened:

My word that’s horrific. I mean … damn.

This is what Lou’s shot chart looks like this season. If you look closely, you can see that where he usually takes his game winning attempts from (beyond the arc) he’s not shooting so hot:

There was just no reason for this to even happen. Initially, Casey backed up his decision to let the team go. Only afterwards did he admit that it may have been the wrong choice.

Gee, y’think?

Lou, on the other hand, didn’t seem to understand why a timeout hadn’t been taken or why a play wasn’t called. So he just did what he always does at the end of quarters with the clock winding down.

And Toronto lived with it. They just lived with it.

No one seemed upset about that play at all, other than the fact that they lost. None of the players were brooding on the final moments and even DeRozan just grimly looked on and talked about the things they need to do next time despite having played his heart out to try and squash the Pistons.

Between this and the strange on-court relationship he has with Jonas Valanciunas, Dwane Casey is going to have some explaining to do very soon if things don’t change.

Can you imagine if this had happened in a playoff game?! My head hurts just thinking about it.

Please, Casey. Please. As a Raptor fan I speak from the heart. No more Lou isolation plays at the end of the shot clock. Run a play. Give it to the red-hot man who has been killing the other team. Do something, anything besides shove the ball into Williams’ hands and say, “Good luck!”

This isn’t funny anymore.

Next: NBA: 50 Greatest Players Of All Time

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