It was inevitable, to me, that my mind should wander to Eddie Feigner as I watched LeBron James put the Cleveland Cavaliers on his broadening shoulders, leading them to a double-overtime victory in Game 5 of the Eastern Conference Finals. And when I say leading them to victory, I mean it how tomatoes are the leading ingredient in ketchup.
The vinegar had fouled out, one by one, but the juicy LeBron tomato was still plump and robust. By now you've heard the numbers -- Marv Albert made sure of that: 29 of the last 30 Cav points scored, including the final 25 (and the last 11 field goals). No Cleveland player had managed to put the ball into the bucket since there was about eight minutes left -- in regulation, some 18 minutes before the game ended.
So who the heck is Eddie Feigner and why is he relevant this morning?
Feigner actually just passed away a couple of months ago. He led The King and His Court, a barnstorming softball team that consisted of pitcher Feigner and a handful of fielders, placed strategically across the diamond and outfield. But they were hardly necessary, because Feigner would pretty much strike everyone out. And he'd do it from second base, blindfolded, between his legs, you name it. He'd strike out major league ballplayers in exhibitions -- easily.
The basketballer James, nicknamed The King, owned the court last night. He didn't need his fouled out comrades, after all. One really can beat five in the NBA -- if the game remains close and comes down to single possessions. And, if that one is unconscious and "in a zone," as Pistons coach Flip Saunders said afterward with chilling understating.
The Cavaliers are poised to win this series and leap into the NBA Finals because the Pistons once again lost their mojo at the most crucial of times. Their killer instinct, which has vanished long ago, was a mere memory as they turned the ball over several times late in regulation, after they'd gone on a 10-0 run to forge an 88-81 lead. Let it now be said, and with more than a hint of truth: the old Pistons wouldn't have blown such an opportunity. They wouldn't have let their feet off the Cavaliers' throats. And they'd be up, 3-2, going to Cleveland. And they'd end the series there.
This is MY time!!
But here's the rub: these AREN'T the old Pistons. Haven't been for quite some time. And nobody wanted to admit that, but now there's no denying it. The Cavaliers are the new beasts of the East now -- perhaps a year earlier than most of us thought. I'm still not sold on them being much more than a titular emperor wearing the clothes, but there you have it. Frankly, neither of these East survivors will be a worthy opponent for the San Antonio Spurs in the Finals. And that's no great crime, for the Spurs are the best team of this era -- the Lakers and Bulls of modern times.
It's highly unlikely, in my mind, that the Pistons can do anything more than maybe give the Cavaliers a good game for 40 minutes or so tomorrow night, falling with a thud after such high hopes. They'll talk bravely (they already are) of "being here before" and of all their experience and how they never make it easy on themselves and all that rot.
It will, unfortunately, be all talk. The wistful blustering of a former champion who, for whatever reason, has lost its magic. Maybe the legs and the bodies and the shooting eyes aren't keeping up with the calendar. The Pistons have played an awful lot of basketball over the years.
Last year, when the Cavs won three straight over the Pistons in the conference semifinals, Antonio McDyess sat numb on the bench, and left the Palace without taking off his uniform. He was, at the time, seeing his championship dreams slipping away.
McDyess was ejected late in the first quarter (a horrible call, by the way). He probably had his uniform off well before the game ended this time. But the feelings inside were no doubt the same -- and maybe worse. He's a year older now, too -- and wasn't around for the party in 2004.
The King owned his court last night. It's only a matter of time before he owns the league's.
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