8901190869
DETROIT FREE PRESS
890508
Monday, May 08, 1989
METRO EDITION
1D
Photo
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1989, Detroit Free Press
PISTONS' 12TH MAN GETTING AN EDUCATION
As a kid, the only athlete I knew personally was a gawky, 6- foot-11
basketball player named Craig Raymond. He played for the Philadelphia 76ers,
and my mother, who decorated houses, found him as a client. I was thrilled.
Never mind that he was the last man on the Philadelphia bench, or that he
played only when the team was winning by 25 points or losing by 30. He was a
pro. One time he came to our house, and I asked him, meekly, if he would dunk
a basketball on my small backyard hoop. I remember to this day how the rim
shook with his strength -- my rim, he had dunked it! "Wow," I whispered to
myself, goose- bumpy with delight.
So I have a thing for 12th men, I admit it. Don't we all? The 12th man is
the NBA's symbol of dreams, the guy hanging on by his fingernails, the last
player to hop the train as it pulled out of the glory station. He may be
furthest from the coach, seat-wise, but he is the closest to us. Why do we
cheer so loudly when the 12th man rises from the bench and peels off his
sweats? Because he is getting a chance. We cheer for for all of us who never
had one.
Basketball has given us some great 12th men, and Detroit has had its share.
There was Chuck Nevitt, the angular clown, all 7-5 of him. Or Darryl Dawkins,
he of his own planet, Lovetron, and flavor, Chocolate Thunder.
And now there is Fennis Dembo. A perfect name. A perfect disposition. And
a perfect face -- big eyes, baby smile, shaved head. Lovable. Above all else,
the 12th man must be lovable.
"What could you do," Dembo was asked at practice Sunday, as the Pistons
readied to play Milwaukee in the second round of the NBA playoffs beginning
Wednesday, "if they suddenly made you a starter in the next game?"
"Nothing!" he said, his eyes bulging. "I'd be frightened to death."
Survival without sparkle
Now, such honesty is refreshing, especially in an age where every player
seems to fell that he, and only he, can do it all. But Dembo, who arrived from
Wyoming with a flair for flash, has learned how to survive without sparkle.
Humbled, perhaps, by the stockpot of talent in the league, he sees the NBA as
something you have to prepare for, a big exam, and he is at least a year or
two away.
So for now, he learns -- and he cheerleads. He leaps off the bench. He
slaps high fives with the nearest teammate. He yells, "Way to play!" "Get
tough!" when the starters take the bench during a time-out. Remember the
slam dunk by John Salley over Boston's Robert Parish that all but ended the
that playoff series last week? Dembo inspired that.
"Fennis was always cheering for me to geek somebody," Salley explained,
"that's what he used to do back in college. You know, slam it, then give him
the geek face. So when I did it, I stuck my face in front of Parish, just for
Fennis. He's been cheering us on all year."
This geek's for you.
Now if you think it's easy watching someone else do your move, or cheering
for someone else to score your points, well, then you've never played
basketball. Two seasons ago Dembo was a hero in Wyoming, a Sports Illustrated
cover, a cool Cowboy with a fanatic following. In college he used to taunt
opponents with jibes of "That's one! There's more where that came from!" He
lit up the nets. Averaged 20 points a game.
Now he is the last player on the first-place team, the tail end of the
comet. Not only are the Pistons valley-deep with talent, but Dembo needs work
on his defense, and this is a defense-crazy group. So he finds his seat at the
end of the bench, and he honors the ghosts of 12th men like Nevitt and Henry
Finkel and Swen Nater -- and Craig Raymond.
"You know, I never think of myself that way," Dembo says, watching his
teammates warm up on the Palace floor. "I never think of myself as the 12th
guy, even though I am. I have so much confidence. It's just the situation
that I'm in right now.
"The talent in this league is tremendous. I don't think I ever realized
that until I got here. And now in the playoffs? Wow. This is intense!
Looking to be No. 11
During the first part of the season, Dembo could recite his stats: "Four
points, eight minutes, three fouls."
Now, he says, he has lost count. He knows he'll only get in if the game is
decided, one way or the other, so how critical can the statistics be? What
counts now, is education. "Joe Dumars made a good point the other day. He said
in college, you only play with maybe two or three good guys, so you can let
it all hang out, and you don't have to think. But up here, everyone was one of
those star guys. So it's only the ones who think that will excel."
That is the mission now. That, and an NBA crown. Dembo says he feels every
bit a part of the Pistons' playoff effort, and will not hesitate to slip a
championship ring on his finger should the opportunity arrive. After all,
they also serve, those who stand and wait. And cheer. And give the geek face.
CUTLINE:
Fennis Dembo