No Sheed – It’s Time For Wallace To Move On

It got to the point where they called it “the black hole.” The basketball would get tossed into it, and, basically, would never come out again. The derisive nickname came from the coaches and teammates, and leaked out.

Basically, the Pistons half-court offense would go like this: Isiah Thomas, slapping the ball against the floor, boogying left and then right, and maybe a pass to Joe Dumars or Bill Laimbeer would ensue. Then, the shot clock ticking away, the ball would end up in the hands of Adrian Dantley – somewhere on the wing. The Black Hole.

Dantley would hold the ball, rocking back and forth on his heels, and the only thing that was certain was that no one was getting it back. He either would drive to the hoop or launch a set shot from 20 feet away.

It was abided, Adrian Dantley’s ball-hogging ways, for a time after the Pistons acquired him from the Utah Jazz in the summer of 1986 for another who was infatuated with touching it, Kelly Tripucka. The Pistons, behind Dantley’s post presence to complement the whirling dervish Thomas and the tough but flat-footed Laimbeer and the smooth as silk Dumars, became a force in the NBA almost overnight. They went to the conference finals in 1987, Dantley’s first season in Detroit. Then they made it to the league finals in ’88, coming a whisker from beating the Lakers.

But the Pistons brass and the others who shared the court with Dantley began to get mystified and maddened at the Black Hole the following season. The offense was coming to an absolute halt whenever Dantley touched the ball. You could practically hear the THUD in the brand-new Palace of Auburn Hills when Adrian Dantley was given the basketball.

So the day after Valentine’s Day, 1989, GM Jack McCloskey stunned the basketball world by trading the Black Hole to the Dallas Mavericks. Coming to Detroit would be another problem child, Mark Aguirre – like Dantley, a prolific scorer. And, like the multi-traded Dantley, Aguirre tended to try the patience of his coach. Dick Motta was the coach in Dallas, and over the years he’d used words like “coward” and “jackass” to describe Mark Aguirre.

And yet here came Aguirre to the Pistons – a team many thought were world title contenders, despite the Black Hole portion of their offense. McCloskey was upsetting the apple cart, purposely.

“The trade had to be made,” he told me a couple years ago when I asked him to, you know, explain himself. “There were issues. Let’s leave it at that.”

The issues were solved when Dantley’s equipment bag and sneakers were shipped out of Detroit, for with Aguirre now on the team and behaving, the Pistons cruised to the NBA championship. And they won it again next year, also with Aguirre.

Rasheed Wallace has become the current Pistons’ Black Hole.

Wallace has more in common with Dantley (above) than you think

It’s not the same kind of thing, really – in the sense that Wallace doesn’t keep the basketball all to himself. But the welcome mat beneath his flippers is wearing away.

Wallace has just authored another chapter in the Book of Rasheed, and like so many others before it, it’s gothic and grotesque and self-defeating. And it carries the rest of his team down with him.

The Pistons are done for the summer, vanquished by the new-look Boston Celtics in six frightful games in the Eastern Conference Finals. Wallace and company worked like mad to wrestle home court advantage away from the Celtics in Game 2, then regurgitated it back up in a Game 3 performance so awful that it almost defies description. But not scapegoats.

Rasheed Wallace, throughout the Boston series, made a lot of news. None of it was very good. His play was horrific, his actions perplexing. From tossing up more bricks than the masons to carelessly handling the basketball to hugging Celtic opponents after games to being on the verge, yet again, of earning a suspension due to too many technical fouls, Wallace has just shown us in one playoff series why he should be politely shown the door, never to wear the Piston uniform again.

I don’t hate the guy. I’m not blaming the Pistons’ failure in the conference finals over the past three seasons solely on him, but I am suggesting that he shoulders most of it. Wallace can no longer be a Piston because he is simply becoming too much for the team to handle and overcome. He shows up flat – or not at all – at too many inopportune times. He has been, frankly, why the Pistons have lost in big games far more than he’s been the reason why they’ve won. His cashiering would be a classic example of addition by subtraction.

Game 6 sealed it for me. Wallace threw the ball away several times, handling it with all the care of a child with someone else’s toy. He rattled shot after shot off the rim in ugly fashion. He played as if in a fog most of the night – matching his countenance for most of the series. The Pistons, sadly, were not only playing the Celtics in this series, but their own No. 36 as well. And Lord only knows who, or what, Rasheed Wallace was competing against. I suspect there are some basketball demons in there. The world according to Wallace is a world that I don’t think any of us have ever inhabited.

It’s time for Pistons GM Joe Dumars to pull a Trader Jack McCloskey and rid the team of Rasheed Wallace while he still has some market value. The dude was fun and all, but he’s just not worth the trouble anymore. No Sheed.

Pistons Maybe On Verge Of Change For Change's Sake

There is no shame in not winning an NBA championship. A cynic -- and I've been that -- would tell you that the way pro sports works is this: There's a first place winner, and all the other teams in the league are tied for last. The only thing that changes is the length of everyone's off-season vacations. But the truth is, you can not be crowned the king and still consider yourself having had a successful season. Some of the time, anyway.

The Pistons are on the verge of being tied for last in the NBA. They're down, 3-2, heading into tonight's Game 6 of the Final Four. If they lose this series -- and they probably will -- they'll have all summer to beat themselves up for letting the Boston Celtics off the mat in Game 3 after working so hard to wrest home court advantage away in Game 2. Game 3 was a mind-numbing, MIA performance that should haunt this team all the way until they manage to win another title. It was a disgraceful, absolutely baffling display -- more befitting a cold January night in New Jersey than at home in the Final Four. Whatever.

Joe Dumars was asked by ESPN.com in an interview played on their website recently about coaches and job security.

Is it fair, Joe D was asked, to issue an edict to a coach that goes something like this: Win the whole enchilada or pack your bags?

Dumars didn't think so. He pointed out how only one team can win, and that no coach should be working under that kind of pressure. Fine. Agreed. But the more apt question would have been, Is it fair to place a coach under such an edict -- or something close to it -- when he's seemingly had the talent to pull it off yet has been toppled three straight years in the Final Four?

Read: is Flip Saunders on the hot seat? Should he be?

In 2005-06, the Pistons went 64-18, including a crazy 35-5, 1984 Tigers-like start. Yet they were extended to seven games by the inferior Cleveland Cavaliers in the Elite Eight and ran out of gas against the Miami Heat. Last season, another inferior Cavs bunch toppled them, despite the Pistons putting them in an 0-2 hole (which they did in '06, too) in the Final Four. This season, a shaky start against the 76ers had the Pistons scrambling right out of the gate. Then, a corrected series against the Orlando Magic and a gutsy Game 2 win in Boston preceded Game 3's nastiness, and the Pistons have been playing catch-up with the Celts ever since.

So: after reading the above paragraph, what do YOU think about Flip's impending return to the Pistons' sidelines?

This isn't just about Flip, though -- despite his head-scratching rotation that doesn't seem to have any pattern or rhythm. It must be terribly frustrating to play for Saunders if you're not on the floor when the game begins, for you may play five minutes, 25 minutes, or none. Jarvis Hayes and even Jason Maxiell, at times, have been ignored with mystifying regularity.

No, it's not all Flip. It's the players, stupid. Time to let go of nostalgia and take a long look at the roster -- the starting five portion. The Pistons rightly let Ben Wallace walk two summers ago, and now it's time to move others -- and yes, I mean for the sake of change. Sometimes that's the last bullet left in the chamber.


Saunders cannot be judged an innocent, but neither can the players -- some of whom should be gone if the Pistons bow to the Celtics, as expected (starters included)


Keeping a quintet together is great if you're the San Antonio Spurs of today (yes, I know they lost to the Lakers but they're still the closest thing to a dynasty the NBA has had since the Chicago Jordannaires), or the Celtics or Lakers of the 1960s or 1980s -- because those teams consistently won championships. The Pistons are almost certainly on the verge of dropping to 2-4 in the Final Four, and where's the fun in that? Where's the warm-and-fuzzy appeal there?

Trades.

Dumars has built his reputation as one of the NBA's best GMs because of his almost spooky and uncanny ability to properly blend aggressiveness with restlessness and intuition. He's done it with his coaching firings and hirings, and with trades. He has, more than once, upset the apple cart and fixed what none of us saw as being broken in the first place. Then, six months later, we see that there needed to be repair, after all. And that's why Dumars is one of the best in the business.

It's time now for that to show through again.

No one -- no one -- should be an untouchable this summer. Everyone should be in play. A wire should be sent throughout the NBA from Auburn Hills that reads something like, "If there's any interest in anyone on our roster -- anyone -- give us a shout. Let's talk."

What is there to lose, at this point? To have this burdensome streak of six consecutive Final Four appearances end? Is that what we're striving for now? To play through Memorial Day and then break for the summer?

I'm telling you, I'd be a whole lot happier with Dumars if the Pistons made a blockbuster trade and be eliminated earlier in the playoffs next season, if there was greater payoff down the line. Better that than to stand pat and lose in another Final Four. But that's just me.

Only one team can win it all. But that doesn't mean that the others should ever stop trying -- even if it means breaking up the gang in order to do it.

The best starting five in the NBA? And where exactly has that gotten the Pistons lately?

Tied for last, that's where.

Penguins Get Unsurprising Game 3 Win, But It Won't Change End Result

So the Pittsburgh Penguins proved, for one game at least -- one desperate, gotta win, no tomorrow, backs against the wall kind of game -- that they can kinda sorta play with the Red Wings, and get a couple of bounces along the way.

It wasn't a terrible effort by the Red Wings last night, as they fell 3-2 to the Pens in Game 3 of the Stanley Cup Finals. But it wasn't one of their best, and against a fired up, playing-at-home Penguins team determined not to go down 0-3, it just wasn't quite good enough.

But the Red Wings' ceiling is far higher than the Penguins' right about now -- meaning that Detroit can play a whole lot better, and I'm not sure that Pittsburgh can raise their bar all that much. Which all adds up, to me, to a 3-1 series lead coming back to Detroit for a clinching Game 5 on Monday.

Ahh, the bounces. Detroit's Brad Stuart zipped a pass straight to Henrik Zetterberg ... but to Hank's skates, not his stick. And as Mickey Redmond would say, "Bingo-bango -- the puck ends up in the back of your net." The turnover was neatly and swiftly converted into a 1-0 Pens lead. Sidney Crosby scored it, added a power play goal, and the Red Wings played catch up. And they almost caught all the way up. More bounces: Pitt's third goal was purposely banged off Chris Osgood's legs and into the net.

The Red Wings waited too long to pull Osgood, however, and by the time they did, less than 30 seconds remained to mount an attack on the Pittsburgh net. There were chances to get the sixth attacker onto the ice with over a minute remaining, but perhaps coach Mike Babcock got a little, ahem, cocky, and put too much faith in his team's ability to score the tying goal while playing 5-on-5. Regardless, the Wings blew it.

But they have hardly blown the series. I doubt too many folks in Hockeytown are surprised by last night's result. Game 3 is a tough one for the 2-0 team to win, on the other team's ice -- although the Red Wings were 2-1 in that department going into last night.

Yes, the Penguins have a smidgen of confidence now -- at least they've seen the brick wall Osgood surrender some pucks past him -- but the Red Wings can still smell this latest Stanley Cup. Half the roster has won it before. You think they're going to let the Penguins off the hook here? Besides, even a Game 4 loss, while unseemly, wouldn't be disastrous. The Penguins don't look ready to beat the Red Wings in Detroit any time soon.

So the Penguins got off the schneide. They scored a few goals. The puck bounced their way. They were more aggressive. Looked comfy at home. Upped their confidence a bit. Now they're 9-0 at home in the playoffs. Good for them.

Detroit in five, that's all. Or six. But Detroit, nonetheless.

Babcock's Hunch Might Win A Bunch, After All

The other day, I was thinking about some of the most exhilarating and most disappointing playoff series in Detroit sports history. I did the Pistons and the Red Wings in my scattered brain. Obviously, the '87 conference finals -- Pistons/Celtics -- is right up there in the disappointing category, for it was the series of Isiah's "pass" to Larry Bird.

Anyhow, I rattled some of these around and I came to one conclusion: ALL playoff series are disappointing when you lose. There just isn't a worse feeling. Yet winning a series mostly seems to bring out feelings of relief, at least in me, instead of any pure exhilaration. Funny how that works.

But one Red Wings series sticks out in my mind, and it's the 0-4 effort in the 1995 Cup Finals against New Jersey. Oh, how that series gives me the creeps when I think of it! A powerhouse Red Wings team going up against a defensive-minded Devils club with the brilliant young netminder Martin Brodeur. Detroit was the clear favorite, though some more level-headed folks went with the Devils and their trapping play as their predicted winners.

The Red Wings lost both Games 1 and 2 at home, and both by one goal. I can still see Paul Coffey lying on the ice, trying to draw a penalty, while play continued and the Devils scored late in the third period of Game 2.

The series just got worse and weirder when it went to New Jersey. Seemed like the Devils would score on every one of their few scoring chances, while Brodeur kept stoning the Red Wings and their vaunted offense. The Wings led briefly in Game 4 but couldn't hold it. They got swept.

Chills. Creeps.

Not that the Pittsburgh Penguins were favorites going into this series, but I imagine Pens fans must be getting that creepy feeling, watching their team go 0-for-2 in Detroit -- and by that I mean no goals, let alone victories. How maddening must it be to watch your team play for the Stanley Cup and not even be allowed the common courtesy of occasional puck possession?

Back in the glory days of the 1950s in Montreal, it was once said of the Canadiens' success: "They play a funny brand of hockey in Montreal. They never let you have the puck."

Same kind of hockey that they're playing in Detroit nowadays.

I don't want to gloat (yet I will), but I predicted a Red Wings Cup wayyyy back as the playoffs began. Just had a hunch -- though I thought the Wings would have to go through San Jose to do it. But I must confess that my visions of Lord Stanley didn't include Chris Osgood in net. And, I'm ashamed to admit, had I thought it would be Ozzie in goal for almost the entire playoff run, I might have been a little skittish. Yes, shame on me.

Why is that, I wonder? Osgood has won a Cup. He played magnificently for almost the entire season. He made the All-Star team. Yet I was content to place my eggs in Dominik Hasek's basket and take my chances.

Now, a word or two about Hasek. First, just because he was replaced after Game 4 of the Nashville series doesn't mean that he wouldn't have gotten it together and led the team to the same place it sits right now -- two wins from the championship. Second -- and this word is actually more about coach Mike Babcock -- Hasek was replaced on a hunch, more than anything else. Kind of like my hunch that the Red Wings would win the whole thing.

As we look back on this 2008 playoff run, we might want to put Babcock's decision to replace Hasek with Osgood on the same mantel as Tigers manager Mayo Smith's dare to put Mickey Stanley at shortstop in the 1968 World Series. It's a move that Colorado's now ex-coach, Joel Quenneville, didn't have the man-berries to make after Jose Theodore stunk up the joint in Detroit in the first two games of the second round.

This Stanley Cup Final isn't over with. Not by a long shot. Every playoff hockey series is always just one strange bounce/fluke goal, hard hit, or costly penalty away from being turned around. But it's hard to imagine that these Red Wings are NOT the NHL's team of destiny this season, Osgood capturing another Cup ten years after his first. By the way, what IS the longest gap between Cups for a goalie for the same team?

Oh, and since that Devils Debacle of '95, the Red Wings are 14-1 in Finals games against their Eastern opponents.

Memorial Day Weekend Hockey Once Yzerman’s Time

They sat all in a row, in one of the cramped cubbies adjacent to Joe Louis Arena’s ancient and too-small press box. Five suits – the stuffed shirts of Red Wings hockey. Hall of Famers and icons.

Scotty Bowman, nine-time Stanley Cup winner and one of the all-time greatest coaches in any game, from hockey to tiddly-winks. Jimmy Devellano, as Red Wing as you can get without ever having slipped a hockey sweater on. Kenny Holland, one of the deans of league GMs. Mark Howe, three-time Cup finalist and a fine defenseman who toiled in pro hockey for 22 years, yet is still only the second-best player in his own family.

And SteveYzerman, the youngest and newest of the stuffed shirts.

Bowman is still employed by the Red Wings, in that purposely ambiguous role of consultant. Devellano is an executive vice president. Holland is in his 11^th year as GM. And Howe was back in town – a rarity, as he is usually elsewhere, scoping out other teams in his duties as an advanced scout.

I looked over at the stuffed shirts often during breaks in play of Saturday’s Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals, and four of them looked relaxed and seemed to be enjoying the action as easily as if they were watching the game from their sofas. Only one of them tended to lean forward, hand on chin, at times looking like he wanted to jump from his seat. Not until late in the third period, the game well in hand for Detroit, did the fifth and youngest stuffed shirt tend to relax.

Playing hockey on Memorial Day weekend is a privilege – earned and not assumed, as if a right. And it was the youngest of the Red Wings’ management core who knows that better than anyone.

Steve Yzerman was that fidgety stuffed shirt last night. And I can only imagine what must be going through his mind right about now. Down below, the next captain, Nicklas Lidstrom, played his usual robotically brilliant game on the blueline – a predictably major reason why the Red Wings smothered and shutout the star-struck Pittsburgh Penguins, 4-0, to move in front at the end of the first turn in these 2008 Finals. But I doubt that seeing how Lidstrom had things under control somehow lessened the angst Yzerman experienced last night.

This used to be Yzerman’s time – when hockey was a diversion from the holiday grilling and was sharing the headlines with the Indianapolis 500. Not always did Stevie Y’s teams make it to Memorial Day, but when they did, it all started with the one wearing the “C”.

There was the occasional locker room pep talk – given when Yzerman felt things slipping away from his hockey club. They were few, but because of their rarity, they became legendary. Some words in St. Louis, one year. A gathering in the friendly skies, jetting out to Vancouver in an 0-2 series hole in 2002. And some others. But words were never Yzerman’s deal. He was about pushing himself, physically and emotionally, and leading by example.

Lidstrom is that way; he’s eloquent in his speech but he’s no Knute Rockne. He, too, prefers to just play hockey to the very best of his ability and be a pied piper that way.

Yzerman says he doesn’t miss the game on the ice. Hasn’t really even put his skates on, to hear him tell it. He’s content to be a stuffed shirt and learn about front officing. And there are dumber folks to learn from than Holland, Bowman, and Devellano.

But what must Yzerman be thinking now, his team on the verge, perhaps, of another Stanley Cup? Can he truly say this morning, without crossing his fingers behind him, that he doesn’t miss playing? He might not miss the physical pain he put himself through in order to be in the lineup, but is he really impervious to the allure of playoff hockey competition, some of the toughest, most draining in all of sports?

I would have asked him these things but he was huddled up, away from the media, along with the other stuffed shirts. There are no more post-game comments from Yzerman, no more patient, hang-on-every-word answers coming from him under the brightness of the TV lights and the pushiness of the hand-held microphones shoved into his face. Post-game for Steve Yzerman now is an office and a few of his management types, hashing over what just happened; what else is there to do? All the work by the shirts is done. All that’s left now is for the coach to coach and the players to play. And for the sophomore vice president to perhaps gaze longingly at the other side of the hall, where the Red Wings’ dressing room is located.

If the Wings capture this Cup, which they should, it will be the first one since 1955 that didn’t have Steve Yzerman on its roster. There was a time when no one thought the Red Wings could win a Cup WITH Yzerman, and now we are wading through a period where some have wondered if they could win one WITHOUT Yzerman. No disrespect to Lidstrom, of course. But look how long it took the team to win one after Gordie Howe retired.

Memorial Day weekend hockey. Some of the best – for players, coaches, media, and fans. Oh, it’s fun for the stuffed shirts, too, but maybe not as much for the one who only two years ago was on the other side of that hallway.

Steve Yzerman had his time. I just wonder how tough it is for him to let go of it.