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<UID>
8801010908
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
880107
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Thursday, January 07, 1988
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL CHASER
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1988, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
HOW HARD DID THE PISTONS WORK? THE SHADOWS KNOW
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<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
Joe Dumars eyed the basket with careful aim as the frenzied crowd rose to
its feet, the tension thick, all he needed was this shot to put it away, just
six seconds left, make the shot, got to make  the shot, the ball rose, and  .
. . the crowd exploded! It was good! It was good! The foul shot was in!

  The foul shot? 

  Well, yeah. This, after all, was the Pistons against the Hawks. You take
one point the way you take a briefcase full of unmarked bills. What was the
final score, anyway? Nine to eight?
  Shoot. Bump. Slap. Bump. We interrupt this warfare for a special bulletin:
After two  Pistons-Hawks games in 24 hours, the players must take a break for
major surgery. Blood transfusions may be arranged. Heaven forbid these two
teams meet in the NBA playoffs in a seven-game series. They'll  have to open a
M*A*S*H* unit.
  "These type of games," said a heavy-breathing Dennis Rodman, who earned 10
points and 16 rebounds in the Pistons' 90-87 victory at the Silverdome,  "they
just drain  you."
  Drain? A good word, considering the water that plopped all over the court
Wednesday night, the result of frost melting inside the Silverdome roof. The
players spent much of the evening  flicking  away raindrops, which beats the
alternative, flicking away each other.
  Although there was plenty of that.  Bodies slamming, balls swatted
backward, angry faces and unfriendly embraces. Here was a  rock-solid Atlanta
defense that -- until a last-minute explosion by a suddenly inspired Pistons
team -- had corked the Detroit offense the entire game. The Hawks were an
ensemble of fleshy shadows that  seemed to go wherever the Pistons went, do
whatever they did. Not that the Pistons were defensive slouches: In the fourth
quarter, Detroit shot 27 percent. Atlanta shot 29 percent.
  "We know each  other so well," said a tired Dumars, of the team the Pistons
play six times during the regular season and met in the playoffs last spring,
"it's like they know all our plays."
  "How can you tell?"  he was asked.
  "Well, when we call a play, they call the same one," he said, with an small
grin. "I call that knowing your plays."
  Can't argue with that.
Bad shooting or good defense?  Let  us talk here about this familiar enemy:
the Atlanta Hawks. Did we say Hawks? That can't be right. If Hawks moved like
this, they'd be called  Gorillas.
  Here is a team as graceful as a tank, with  the soft touch of an anvil,
lithe the way a cow is lithe, which is to say, not at all. Even their dribbles
are heavy. They have a Tree (Rollins) in the middle, one 7-foot forward (Kevin
Willis) with Frankenstein's cheekbones, another 7-foot forward (Jon Koncak)
with braces, and, Wednesday night, perhaps the most magical forward in the
game (Dominique Wilkins) sitting injured on the bench -- replaced  by Antoine
(My Torso Is The Size Of A) Carr.
  Impressed? Playing the Hawks is like moving through the jungle with a
machete. They all look as if  they're wearing shoulder pads. And that's with
bare  shoulders.
  "Biggest, strongest team we play," concurred Pistons coach Chuck Daly.
"These games are always tough. They're a great defensive team."
  And therefore, not a good opponent against which  to shoot 37 percent.
Which is what the Pistons shot. Believe it or not, that's the same as they
shot Tuesday night in the loss at Atlanta. Is it incredible defense or woeful
offense?
  "It's just  good defense on both teams' part," said Isiah Thomas, who went
7-for-21. Well. Maybe. But the Pistons' guards were 10-for-41 from the
outside. Bill Laimbeer even missed three free throws. In a row.
  "I don't think he's ever done that in his career," moaned Daly. "We're not
getting any rolls."
Better get used to it  Not to worry. There's nothing wrong with the Pistons
that a little shooting  wouldn't fix.
  First, they could shoot the referees.
  Then they could shoot the ball in the basket.
  The latter seems to have become a forgotten art, which makes the former
seem more and more  necessary. Were you there Wednesday night? The refs seemed
to take pleasure, the way a TV wrestling viewer might, in watching bodies slam
into one another.
  But then, we may have to get used to this.  Such is the game Atlanta plays
-- and the Pistons will play Atlanta plenty more this year. Forget about the
Celtics. Detroit will have to concern itself with Hawks before it ever worries
about green leprechauns. Two games? Scores 81-71 and 90-87? 
  Whew.
  Better work on those free throws.
  "Any thoughts on Friday's game against the Lakers?" someone asked Thomas
just before he left Wednesday  night.
  He rolled his eyes.
  "I am going," he said, "home to bed."
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