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<UID>
8701250622
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
870523
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Saturday, May 23, 1987
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1C
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1987, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
O, FIRST 2 PLAYOFF GAMES,
WE HARDLY KNEW YOU
</HEADLINE>
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<BODY>
"We won't have a very long practice today. Just long enough to throw up."

  --Chuck Daly, Friday morning
Adrian Dantley had his feet up on the seat. Bill Laimbeer was asleep with
his mouth  open. Rick Mahorn sat with headphones over his ears.

  It was Friday morning and the sun pierced the small glass windows of the
airplane cabin. Somewhere, 30,000 feet below, were the first two games  of
this playoff series with the Celtics, gone forever. Just like that? Just like
that. The Pistons fly into Boston, brimming with confidence, and bang, bang,
they are on a plane coming home, down 0-2.  Where did those games go?  How
fast had they been lost? Just like that?
  "You know, when we sat down on the bench for Game 2," Sidney Green said,
"I turned to Kurt (Nimphius) and I said, 'Man, it feels like we were just
here.' Didn't I say that, Kurt?"
  He tapped him on the arm.
  "Huh?" a groggy Nimphius said.
  "I did," Green said. "I said it feels like we were just here. And, bam,
we lost again."
  Green sighed. Down the aisle sat Joe Dumars, looking at a magazine. A few
seats away, John Salley. A few over, Vinnie Johnson. They were like kids who
jump on a Greyhound bus to  New York City, ready to be discovered, and someone
steals their wallets. Just like that. Are there any faster losses than the
first two playoff losses against the defending champions? In any sport?
  One minute everything is possible, and the next minute, the possible is
everything. The night this series started -- which was what, a few hours ago?
-- Detroit was favored by almost everybody. But  Game 1 was lost in a
throbbing Boston Garden ("We were too hyper out there," coach Chuck Daly said)
 and Game 2 was lost in a throbbing Boston Garden ("Bill Laimbeer and Rick
Mahorn got a total of five  points," Daly said. "How often does that happen?")
and this is the way these things go. You write off one game to nerves and one
game to weird shooting, and before you know it, you are written off.
'The  games go boom' 
  "Doesn't it seem like too long a season to have these playoff games go by
so fast?" Dumars was asked on the plane.
  "Yeah," he said, "the games go boom and next thing you know everyone's
asking you to analyze them. And then you have to play another one."
  Yes. Another and another. The Boston one-two is replaced by the Detroit
three-four. A game today at the Silverdome.  A game tomorrow at the
Silverdome. Two games within 26 hours? Can that be right? Two games within 26
hours? Someone has put their finger in the middle of the record and is
spinning it faster and faster.  Two games within 26 hours? That means by
tomorrow night, this series -- which began what, a few minutes ago? -- could
actually be all over.
  "Can you do anything at practice with so little time?"  Daly was asked.
"Can you make changes?"
  "All we can do is try to forget the last two games," he said. "Sometimes
you do that best by shooting at a new basket. That's about all. Maybe a small
adjustment  here or there. But we're pretty much locked in. At this stage, you
show up and play and hope for the best."
Quick nap, and show begins 
  It would be different if Games 1 and 2 of this series -- which began,
what, a few seconds ago? -- were double-overtime affairs. Real wars. Best
against best. But they have been oddities, mediocre shooting from excellent
players, excellent shooting from mediocre  players. Isiah Thomas too cold.
Isiah Thomas too wild. Dantley here, Dantley gone. Jerry Sichting? Sam
Vincent?
  Wasn't it a few seconds ago that all the talk was about Kevin  McHale and
Robert Parish's  injuries? And how Bill Walton and Danny Ainge would be so
sorely missed? Where did this Pistons shooting problem come from? Where did
these grumblings about Isiah's showmanship come from? When is the  next game?
Five minutes? Two minutes?
  "What are you going to do today after practice?" Dantley was asked Friday.
"Shoot 500 free throws? Develop a new spin move? Come up with a new miracle?"
  "I'll look at some tape and go home," he said.
  That is all there is time for. Go home. Come back. The regular season is
an endless road of loose hours, long breakfasts, afternoon soap operas.  And
the playoffs are ice skates. Play, answer 1,000 questions, shower, sleep.
Practice, answer 1,000 questions, shower, sleep. The margins between games are
little more than a temporary exit cue. Skim  your lines. A dab of makeup.
You're on.  Or you're off.
  "Do you realize that within 26 hours of Saturday's tap-up, the whole
season could be over?" Daly was reminded as he left the plane.
  "I know it," he said. "Then again, we could win two games in little more
than a day."
  He allowed a smile.
  "And we'd be tied."
  Just like that? Just like that.
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