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'El Contusione': Manu Ginobili's unpredictable, high-energy play often sends him sprawling to the floor, but he won't let a few bruises get in the way of his charge toward a title

Sporting News, The,  June 17, 2005  by Sean Deveney

Manu Ginobili falls down.

A lot.

Want proof?

Focus on Ginobili's play in The Finals. Or go back to Game 3 of the Western Conference finals, a home win over the Suns that gave San Antonio immutable control over the series. Barely 3 minutes have elapsed in the game, yet there is Ginobili, all 6-6, 220 pounds of him, picking off an offensive rebound in the midst of players both bigger and stronger. He first stretches past the Suns' Shawn Marion to secure the rebound and stumbles down as he does. He gets up, finds himself surrounded by defenders and recovers just quickly enough to fire a pass back to the halfcourt line for Bruce Bowen.

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As he throws the pass, Ginobili goes crashing to the hardwood yet again, with a bit more force this time. Now, there are players in the NBA who go entire 82-game seasons without once allowing their bodies to hit the ground. But here's Ginobili, in the span of 3 seconds in this critical playoff game, taking two tumbles and doing so with disconcerting eagerness. It's not just that he falls--it's that he seems to want to fall. Little wonder teammate Brent Barry calls Ginobili El Contusione.

"He likes it," says Spurs forward Robert Horry. "That's just the way that guy plays, always going hard, always diving, jumping, doing whatever he has to do. He has a lot of energy, that's for sure."

Ginobili has been using that energy wisely. Few players have raised their profiles in the league--maybe Dwyane Wade, maybe Amare Stoudemire--more than Ginobili has over the past six weeks. He is a human maraca, best when in motion, most noticeable when thumping against something solid. He gets under the skin of his foes and was the focus of a postgame rant by Nuggets coach George Karl in the first round. Ginobili also uses his energy to accentuate contact. In the conference semifinals, Sonics guard Ray Allen said, "What he does, when someone bodies him or puts an arm on his head, his head always flops. So then his hair goes wild, and it looks like someone just murdered him."

That's not to say Ginobili is all style, no substance. His performance in the postseason has more than justified the six-year, $52 million investment the Spurs made in him last offseason. As San Antonio faced fast-break attacks from Denver, Seattle and Phoenix in the playoffs, Ginobili's open-court skill on both ends of the floor became more important to the Spurs. He shot 51.2 percent from the field and 46.2 percent on 3s in the first three rounds. He is averaging 21.8 points in the playoffs, up from 16.0 in the regular season. He also has raised his averages in assists (4.3 in the playoffs) and rebounds (up to 5.8).

But there is much more to Ginobili than the numbers in the box score. It's not just the layup that be converts for two points; it's that he dribbled behind his back to beat two defenders just to get that layup. It's that, early in the fourth quarter of Game 3, he came from 25 feet away to outrace Quentin Richardson for a loose ball, diving headfirst when Richardson merely leaned down for the pickup. It's that, in Game 3, El Contusione went to the floor eight times. He did it seven times in Game 4 and seven more times in the clinching fifth game in Phoenix (after which, he wound up limping with a thigh contusion).

Ginobili is not doing all of this to have stories written about him. "Everything he does," says Suns point guard Steve Nash, "is aimed at winning. He might make some interesting attempts, but he is not doing it for show."

Now, with the stakes higher and with the defense in The Finals sure to be tighter, Ginobili figures to be scuffing some serious maple (that's what basketball floors are made of, as Ginobili surely knows). The tougher defense that is sure to come as the Spurs chase yet another title is no problem--that's how Ginobili wants it. Give him a loose ball and he will dive. Throw him an elbow and he will act as though there's an assault in progress.

That's what makes Ginobili lovable and what makes him nearly unique in the NBA--he throws his body around with an utter lack of concern for both bone and organ. Yes, Manu Ginobili falls down, but it is because he takes so many falls that his star is on the rise.

With 5:36 to go in the decisive fifth game against the Suns, Ginobili has gotten himself in an awkward position. He is guarding Stoudemire, the Suns' 6-10 dynamo of a center, and he is overmatched. Ginobili is fighting hard to push Stoudemire out of the lane. When the entry pass comes to Stoudemire, Ginobili does all he can--he stretches out toward the ball and falls to the floor with a ka-lump-LUMP that is audible all the way to America West Arena's rafters. It works. Ginobili is on the floor, but Stoudemire is unable to get to the entry pass, which skips out of bounds.

Bigger, stronger players do not intimidate Ginobili. When you're the son of a coach--Ginobili's father, Jorge, coached both Manu and his two older brothers, Sebastian and Leandro--you learn that maximum effort is the only option.