Pistons MVP? It's Wallace, Guaransheed

It started, as usual, with a technical foul. Slapped with it, the basketball player did what pissed off basketball players tend to do: waving the arms in dismissal of the referee, scowling, and saying some not nice words. The crowd roared in approval – of the player. Then they, too, joined in with the not nice words.

It continued to the next possession, when the pissed off player called for the ball, angrily, in the low post. His method of doing so was picked up by the Fox Sports Detroit microphones. Rip Hamilton was bouncing the ball in the corner, and Rasheed Wallace wanted it. Very badly.

“Give me the ball!,” Rasheed yelled, only he stuck a word before “ball” that was one of those not nice ones.

Hamilton floated the ball to Wallace, who was working against a Toronto rookie, and Rasheed was madder than a hornet. He took a couple of dribbles, backed into the kid, made a move, and hooked the ball into the basket. And got fouled.

That’s when the real show started. More scowls and arm pumping. Wallace was, it seemed, more animated then, after success, than he was moments earlier, after disappointment.

To the foul line he went, jabbering the whole way. It was unclear if his vitriol was directed to the referees or the Raptor player(s).

Several minutes later, standing along the lane waiting for a Pistons free throw, Wallace started jawing with the young Chris Bosh – who was the victim of much of Rasheed’s schooling, and the maligned defender against Wallace’s 28 points. The discussion seemed to be quite the scolding one.

Later in the fourth quarter, the game still in doubt, Wallace took a pass beyond the three-point line and buried the shot, sticking a dagger into the Raptors’ five-game winning streak. Toronto called time out.

“Don’t mess with me!,” Rasheed screamed toward the Toronto bench. Only he didn’t say “mess” – unless he really mispronounced it badly.

Even after the game, after another win was safely in the books, Wallace had to be led away from the officials. The FSD cameras caught him, in plain view, constantly looking over his shoulder and saying some more not nice words, on his way to the locker room in his crooked path way. Teammates patted him on the back as if to say, “It’s OK, man. We WON.”

Rasheed Wallace plays basketball with a sound and a fury that I’ve never seen before. He’s at his best when his emotions spew from him, like a human volcano. He is genuinely not as good of a performer when he’s trying to suppress himself. Every time he does that, his coach recognizes the silliness of even trying, and takes off the shackles. Instantly, his play improves. Wallace without anger and emotion is like Kool-Aid without the sugar, in a dichotomy sort of way.

Three years ago, at the trading deadline, Pistons President Joe Dumars swindled Wallace from the Atlanta Hawks, who had him for just one game. Sheed entered his first press conference as a Piston wearing a Kansas City Chiefs football jersey. And he’s been accumulating yellow penalty flags and blitzing his opponents ever since.

***********************************
Rasheed Wallace is, whether you choose to believe it or not, the barometer of the Pistons.
***********************************
“We’ve tried to get him to keep his emotions in check, but he’s not as effective that way,” Pistons coach Flip Saunders explained it a couple of weeks ago, after Wallace had racked up some more technical fouls, edging closer to the cap before suspensions start taking effect. “Sheed needs to play with emotion.”

Last week, Wallace felt the volcano about to erupt. Instead of incurring another technical, he marched directly to the Pistons bench, specifically to Saunders, as if he was the human version of a Monopoly token: do not pass GO, do not collect $200 – or another “T.”

“Get me out,” Wallace told his coach. He felt a technical coming on, and wanted to avoid it.

Saunders got him out. Antonio McDyess replaced him.

Moments later, in the motherscratcher of all ironies, McDyess was nailed with two technical fouls and was ejected from the game. His replacement? Rasheed Wallace!

Well, at least he had tried to avoid trouble.

I’m asked it often: Which Pistons player is most valuable to the team? It’s a question that is supposed to elicit pained thinking and consternation. How can you pick just one player, folks would say, from a team that prides itself on being one with no “stars”?

Easy. I’ll do it for you right now. Rasheed Wallace is, whether you choose to believe it or not, the barometer of the Pistons. This conclusion is so simple in its method, you’re gonna smile when you read what it is.

The Pistons usually lose, especially in the playoffs, when Rasheed Wallace has a poor game. And they usually win, especially in the playoffs, when Rasheed Wallace has a good game. And isn’t that the true meaning of the word “valuable”?

Back in the Bad Boys days, I came to the same conclusion about another big man, but in a funny way: without any hypothesis.

Bill Laimbeer played over 500 consecutive NBA games, at one point in his career. It was impossible to gauge his importance to the Pistons, conventional wisdom said, because the team had never actually experienced him out of the lineup. Which is precisely why I said the Pistons could afford to lose Laimbeer the least. The very thought of the team not getting what Laimbeer was providing – relentless rebounding, outside shooting, grittiness, attitude – always made me shudder.

This version of the Pistons has the beanpole shooter and whirling dervish, Richard Hamilton, who’s leading the team in scoring. It has Chauncey Billups, aka Mr. Big Shot. It has the quiet assassin, Tayshaun Prince. And now it even has big man passer extraordinaire, Chris Webber. That’s all very nice. But if Rasheed Wallace isn’t Rasheed Wallace – if he is diluted and polished and vanilla, then he isn’t Rasheed Wallace. And if he isn’t Rasheed Wallace, then he isn’t the Pistons’ MVP.

Give him the #%!# ball!