0305230538
DETROIT FREE PRESS
030523
Friday, May 23, 2003
METRO FINAL
1A
Photo KIRTHMON F. DOZIER/Detroit Free Press;Photo JULIAN H.
GONZALEZ/Detroit Free Press;Photo NEBOJSA PARAUSIC/Associated Press
Tayshaun Prince, left, and Clifford Robinson only can watch as the Pistons'
playoff hopes fade away. The Nets have a 3-0 series lead, a deficit no NBA
team has overcome. MORE IN SPORTS, PAGE 1D.
After the anxious moments of the draft lottery, Pistons president Joe Dumars
is all smiles. His team will pick second June 26. Detroit last picked No. 2 in
1981 - and took Isiah Thomas.
Darko Milicic, a 7-foot Serb, was so impressive in a workout with the Pistons
that they didn't believe he was 17. Some people Milicic could be every bit as
much a franchise cornerstone as LeBron James.
MITCH ALBOM FREE PRESS COLUMNIST
Copyright (c) 2003, Detroit Free Press
BEHIND THE SCENES WITH DUMARS AS PISTONS LUCK INTO NO. 2 DRAFT PICK
EAST RUTHERFORD, N.J. -- The Pistons players were out on the court, pulling
off their sweats, staring at their present. At the same time, inside a dark
video room in the back of the Continental Airlines Arena, Joe Dumars and a
handful of Pistons staff members were huddled quietly around a TV set, staring
at their future.
"Come on, come on," one of them mumbled.
The man on the screen opened a large envelope. "The seventh pick," he said,
"goes to . . ."
The room froze.
". . . Chicago."
The room exhaled.
This is how franchises are built. In back rooms of arenas, where executives
watch envelopes after Ping-Pong balls determined their content. In the midst
of all these childish things -- Ping-Pong balls, colorful placards -- grown
men's fortunes are made.
"When was the last time you gambled anywhere?" I asked Dumars, as he rubbed
his hands together nervously.
"On vacation, in San Juan, a few years ago," he said. "I tried roulette. I'm
not much of a gambler."
He was now, whether he wanted to be or not. The biggest opportunity of his
front office tenure hung on a game of chance: the NBA lottery, in which the
worst teams get next year's draft order determined. The Pistons, deep into the
playoffs, are not one of the worst teams. But the Memphis Grizzlies are. And
the Pistons, through an old trade, had the Grizzlies' pick, as long as it
wasn't No. 1.
Now, with the Pistons staff breathing hard and tapping feet and biting lips,
something big was about to happen. If the Memphis card didn't come out of the
next envelope, the Pistons -- through machinations too complicated to go into
here -- would jump into the top three.
"If this isn't Memphis," Dumars whispered, "we could be in the money . . ."
The room went silent. The envelope was opened.
"The sixth pick goes to . . ."
Freeze.
". . . the L.A. Clippers."
"YES!" "Yes!" "All right."
Dumars rubbed his temples, even as he smiled.
"Oh . . . my . . . god," he mumbled.
The prize draft pick
Earlier in the day, the Pistons had worked out a young man named Darko
Milicic. From Serbia. He is not yet 18. He is 7-feet. He was so impressive
during the workout that several Pistons players, having finished their
shoot-around, hung out and peeked as he went through his drills. What did they
think? Put it this way. They didn't believe he was 17. More like 25.
You ask Dumars about Darko -- as he refers to him -- and you see his eyes
light up. He talks about a big man who is still growing, who has all the
fundamentals, who can post up, who can shoot, who is mature beyond his years,
and who already has played several seasons of professional ball in Europe,
which means, as Dumars says, "he's done road trips, he's been to other
countries, he doesn't have to learn all that."
Although LeBron James, the high school phenom, will be the No. 1 pick -- heck,
he'd just signed a $90-million endorsement deal -- there are some who believe
that Darko, with his height, could be every bit as much a franchise
cornerstone.
Dumars wouldn't come out and say it publicly, but he'd grab this kid in a
heartbeat. Heck, if he had the No. 1 pick, it might be a toss-up between James
and Darko.
Now, on the television, the program went to a commercial. The room tittered
with the nervous energy of a waiting room in a maternity ward. It was this
simple: If Memphis came up No. 3, the Pistons would have that pick. If Memphis
came up No. 2, they'd have that pick.
And if Memphis came up No. 1, they'd have nothing.
In other words, it was feast or famine. All or nothing. A jackpot or a wooden
nickel.
"The other teams have better odds," someone said.
"Yeah . . . that's right . . . yes," others quickly agreed.
Everyone was doing math. Everyone was figuring numbers. Everyone's heart was
approaching his throat. A staff member said, "Hey, Joe, if you could have No.
3 right now, would you take it?"
"Right now?" Dumars said, slapping his thighs. "Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah."
Back from commercial. The man came to the platform. The small dark room went
breathless.
"The No. 3 pick goes to . . ."
Freeze.
". . . Denver."
The room yelped.
"Oh . . . my . . . god . . . oh . . . my . . . god . . ." Dumars said.
The luck of a champion
Earlier in the day, Dumars was walking back to his hotel. He had found a
penny. He picked it up and noticed the year: 1989. The Pistons' first
championship. He put it in his pocket.
Now he sat, in a room full of video equipment, with that penny in his pocket,
and he lowered his shoulders as if preparing to make a tackle -- or take one.
Building a franchise is equal parts knowledge, chemistry, payroll -- and luck.
The last was the only one that Dumars, a hard worker all his life, couldn't
accomplish with hard work. Luck either kissed you or it didn't. The next
envelope would determine whether a franchise player would join this already
good Detroit team -- something that almost never happens -- or if it wouldn't.
"The No. 2 pick goes to . . ."
Someone whispered, "Please . . ."
Someone whispered "Come on . . ."
"The Memphis Grizz--"
"YES! YES! WHOOO! WHOO! YES! OH MY GOD!"
The longest of shots had just come through. A pick with a seven percent
chance. The men hugged. They slapped hands. They yelped boyish words like
"Knew it!" and "Did it!" and "YES!" and "Bam!"
And then they broke out of the door and into the hallway, like the march of
the astronauts in the movie "The Right Stuff." Their arms were around each
other. Their smiles were as wide as a bayou. Dumars had a penny in his pocket
and an ace up his sleeve. One game was about to begin. One had just ended. The
present had met the future, and for one strange moment, there was nothing as
sweet as being No. 2.
Contact MITCH ALBOM at 313-223-4581 or albom@freepress.com. Catch "The Mitch
Albom Show" 3-6 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM (760). Also catch "Monday Sports
Albom" 7-8 p.m. Mondays on WJR.
THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
BASKETBALL;PISTONS;SPT