Now you know why the Jazz grew weary of Ricky Rubio
He’s too often on the knife’s edge, just barely in control. You can never know if his next move is a pinpoint pass or a pinheaded turnover. For all of his intangibles, for all of his "crafty" subterfuge, he is consistently haphazard. He’s the downhill skier on one ski who is either going to hold his edge or fly into the trees. Is Rubio helping you win the game or making you lose? I can never tell, because the scale between good and awful is in perfect equilibrium, a lingering riddle that decides if your next reaction is delight or despair. After four games this Rubio quirk is only slightly annoying and still fascinating to watch. After the 100 or 1,000 games the Jazz must have witnessed, the temptation was probably too great to grab him by the man-bun and hammer-throw him over the Wasatch Range.