8801030469
DETROIT FREE PRESS
880117
Sunday, January 17, 1988
METRO FINAL
1H
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1988, Detroit Free Press
THE PLAIN TRUTH
THERE'S MORE TO PISTONS' DUMARS THAN WHAT SHOWS ON THE SURFACE
The quietest Piston stays on the court after practice ends; dribble,
shoot, rebound, shoot again. The big stars are on their way home. The camera
crews pack up and leave. Pretty soon it's just the ball, the basket, and Joe
Dumars.
Plain ol' Joe.
In a world full of swirling dunks and swaying egos, where every big man
has a story and every small man can leap one, we have here, in Detroit Piston
No. 4, a real rarity. Tell us what you know about Joe Dumars. We'll wait.
"Let's see," you say, "he's the other guard alongside Isiah Thomas, he plays
good defense, he's . . . um . . . he plays good defense. . . . "
Plain ol' Joe.
When was the last time he was news? When was the last in- depth TV
interview? When was the last time he claimed to be from another planet, or
threw a dozen gold chains around his neck, or did a shoe commercial that
made him fly like a god? For Pete's sake, when was his last controversy? In a
recent game against the Lakers he was actually called for a technical foul.
Eyebrows were raised.
"What did you say to the ref?" reporters asked afterward.
"I told him to call them both ways."
"That's it?"
"That's it," said Dumars.
Shoot, even the controversies are low-key.
And yet Joe Dumars is a star of this Pistons team as sure as Isiah Thomas
or Adrian Dantley or Bill Laimbeer. Some games he's more important. Remember
that Dumars -- in addition to his steady, if not overwhelming, scoring -- is
also the starter who draws defensive assignments for guys like Magic Johnson
and Michael Jordan (whom he guarded Saturday night in Chicago).
It wasn't always that way. Joe Dumars came out of college with a sack full
of points. He was a scorer. In 1984, he ranked sixth in the nation. To which
everyone said: "Who?"
You get that when you play for McNeese State.
Where?
"It wasn't until I got here that my role became mainly a stopper," says
Dumars, the slim, boyish-faced guard who averaged 22.5 at McNeese (in
Louisiana). "But that's fine by me.
"On this team, I guess my image is a low-key guy who comes to get it
done, not a whole lot of glitter or flash."
"Are you happy with being known that way?" he is asked.
"I am that way," he says.
Which is good news. The Pistons are an excellent team, and for the most
part, nice guys. But they are not exactly the Brady Bunch. Isiah Thomas is a
superstar, complete with its privileges. Adrian Dantley has always been
aloof. Vinnie Johnson needs his minutes to be happy, Rick Mahorn will knock
your head off, John Salley is Eddie Murphy inside a basketball player's body,
Laimbeer is, well, Laimbeer. . . .
I'll tell you this: I bet Chuck Daly thanks his lucky stars every time
Joe Dumars walks in the locker room.
Plain ol' Joe.
And maybe not so plain. After all, there's a difference between plain and
private. One day during last year's playoffs, a pack of reporters was
gathered around Adrian Dantley's locker. Dumars was standing nearby drinking
orange juice from a can. He looked over at the crowd, then stuck the can like
a microphone in front of Dantley's face. He never said a word, he just
grinned, and Dantley didn't even notice it among the other mikes. Dumars
pulled it back and continued dressing.
I remember thinking: I gotta find out more about this guy.
And as it turns out, there is plenty. Here is a man who is strictly
business on the court, yet he spends his off-season in cutoff shorts on the
beaches near Lake Charles, La., eating crawfish and listening to Zydeco
music (which Paul Simon helped make famous on "Graceland"). He lives in a
small apartment. His town is a small town. He was brought up in the womb of
Cajun influence -- Creole festivals, Creole language. Shrimp, oysters, frogs,
gumbo. Did you know that about Dumars?
"I speak a little bit of Creole," he says. "Just stuff I picked up from
the older people down there."
"Really? Speak some."
"Aw, you know. Parlez francais? . . . Comment ca va? . . . "
To hear Joe Dumars whisper broken French phrases while sitting alongside
the Silverdome court is to realize how very little anybody really knows about
anybody.
Fred Sanford.
That's right. Fred Sanford. From "Sanford and Son." Joe Dumars loves that
show. I'll bet you didn't know that either. He has 80 episodes on tape, and
he watches them all. "I know every line, every gesture, sometimes I even know
the next commercial."
"Do you have a favorite episode?" I ask.
"The one where Lamont gets a traffic ticket and has to go to court. Fred
defends him."
"What happens?"
"Lamont gets off free. Fred gets fined $25 for contempt of court."
He laughs. "That one always cracks me up."
Now, OK. Maybe crawfish and Fred Sanford are not what you call average
pastimes. But hey. Who are we to judge? The point is that Dumars, a black and
white ball player, has a colorful personality every bit as noteworthy as that
of Isiah Thomas or John Salley. He just keeps it to himself.
And this, I think, is more than shyness. I think it is smarts. Dumars
knows whom he can trust and whom he can't. He has no objection to headlines,
but he has no need for them either. He does not fall into the cliques that
exist within the Pistons team. He pals around lately with Dantley, because
"we seem to share a lot of the same attitudes. Take a low-key approach. Try to
be consistent." Yet he is not a lackey.
Nor is he a shrinking violet. Remember that during last year's playoffs
against Boston, it was Dumars -- not Thomas or Laimbeer -- who had his biggest
game when the Pistons needed it most, scoring 35 points in Game 7. Had they
won that finale (they lost, 117-114), he would surely have been hailed as the
hero.
So there goes plain ol' Joe, who works out summers in 100- degree heat,
who is a legend in Lake Charles, who can shift from scorer to defender, who
can mimic Fred Sanford, eat a ton of crawfish and sing lyrics to Clifton
Chenier records. Plain ol' Joe, who, at 24, owns a personality more solid than
that of many of his older peers.
"You make a lot of money now," I say, "why don't you get a bigger house
back home, or take on hobbies more extravagant than watching reruns?"
"Why should I do that?" he says.
I admit I have no answer.
There goes plain ol' Joe. The Pistons will be in the news quite a bit
these next few months. And most reporters, as usual, will run first to Thomas
and Laimbeer. But they should know this: The quietest Piston is not shy, not
dull, and most of all, not insignificant. He just keeps certain things to
himself -- and he may not be the only one.
"Tell me," I say, "is Dantley a 'Sanford and Son' nut, also?"
"No," Dumars says, smiling, "Adrian is a 'Leave It To Beaver' man."
See what I mean?
COLUMN;JOE DUMARS;BASKETBALL;DPISTONS;Pistons