8901240927
DETROIT FREE PRESS
890613
Tuesday, June 13, 1989
METRO FINAL
1D
Photo STEVEN R. NICKERSON
MITCH ALBOM
SEE ALSO METRO FINAL EDITION 1D
Copyright (c) 1989, Detroit Free Press
DALY'S GLASS IS FINALLY FULL
COACH DESERVES HIS CHAMPAGNE TONIGHT
CORRECTION RAN June 14, 1989
getting it straight
* Mitch Albom's column Tuesday should have said that Paul
Westhead won an NBA title as Los Angeles Lakers coach in
1980, and Bill Fitch as Boston Celtics coach in 1981.
INGLEWOOD, Calif. -- Wouldn't it be funny if beneath that crusty
exterior, those dagger eyes, those tightly crossed arms that look as if
they'll squeeze the heart from his chest, beneath those throaty screams, that
pounding on the table, the slap on the forehead as he collapses in his chair,
beneath the pacing feet and the churning stomach and that look to the heavens
whenever Dennis Rodman makes a boo-boo that seems to say, "Why me, Lord? What
did I ever do to you?" -- wouldn't it be funny if beneath all that, Chuck Daly
was really . . . an optimist?
OK. So it's a stupid idea.
Just asking.
"Did you know he punched me on Sunday?" John Salley said before practice
for tonight's Game 4 of the NBA Finals against the Lakers, a game that could
finally deliver a championship ring to Daly and Detroit. "I'm not kidding. I
came off the court in the first half and he yelled, 'Why did your man get the
shot?' And I said, 'I switched off with Isiah.' And he said, 'WHY DID YOUR
MAN GET THE SHOT?' And I said, 'I SWITCHED OFF WITH ISIAH!' And I turned to
sit down and pow! He punched me -- right in the leg! And I spun around and he
said, 'Don't let him get any more shots.' Now, that's playoff intensity."
Salley smiled.
"He must have known I wouldn't hit him back."
Aww, who would? Now? At the end of the rainbow? Shouldn't Daly be forgiven
just about anything these days? Here, in the charcoal gray Armani suit, is
the longest wait in these playoffs -- not Isiah, not Laimbeer, not Edwards,
not any player. The coach. The most mileage, deepest wrinkles, the least
amount of sleep. And tonight could be salvation. Big Daddy Daly, on the verge
of the jackpot.
"How will you react if you guys win the title in four games?" someone asked
Daly Monday.
"I have no idea," he said, squirming. "I haven't given it much thought.
I'd like to get to it first. You never know what can happen. Hey. You still
gotta win one more. Look at last year. Look at--."
We interrupt these regularly scheduled Chuck Daly pessimisms to bring you
a prediction. You know what I think? I think if the Pistons win tonight, Daly
is gonna run into the locker room, shut the door behind him and scream:
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!! I DID IT! I DID IT! I DID IT! YIPEEEE!"
Then fix his tie, come out, and be back to normal.
That's what I think.
F orty-eight minutes! Forty-eight minutes!" Throughout this remarkable
playoff run, that has been the theme of the Pistons' attack. Play the whole
game. Every last second. Never assume victory. Forty-eight minutes.
In many ways, it is Chuck Daly's life story: Here is the oldest coach in
the NBA, a guy who has made all the stops you can make coming from
Punxsutawney, Pa., seven years in high school coaching, eight years as
college head coach, four years as an NBA assistant, he has been hired, fired
-- heck, he once worked as a furniture loader, a night watchman, a
construction worker, and a bouncer in a Tokyo bar. Forty-eight minutes? If
coaching careers had stopwatches, he'd be in overtime right now.
"When I first came to Detroit," he said, a few days ago, leaning back
behind his desk, "to be honest, I didn't know if I would last one season.
They'd had something like 10 coaches in 11 years. I looked at Scotty
(Robertson) before me, and I said to myself, 'I don't know if I can do a
better job than this guy.' "
That was . . . years ago. Daly still draws a Pistons paycheck. It has
hardly been easy. It isn't always fun. Daly himself, according to most
observers, is different this year than in years past: more stern, less
tolerant. But then, just think of the changes he has seen: Cobo Arena, Joe
Louis Arena, the Silverdome, the Palace. A busted roof. A team plane. A crowd
of more than 60,000. Dan Roundfield, Earl Cureton, Terry Tyler, Chuck Nevitt.
You want headaches? How about the time Larry Bird stole the ball? You want
worries? He was about to be fired once, before Isiah Thomas intervened.
Uncertainty? Try William Bedford's drug rehab, or the final weeks of last
season, when Daly worked without a contract, with no assurance that he would
be back, yet there he was, barking out the plays, sweating, aching, dropping
onto his hotel bed at 5 a.m., exhausted, as he steered the Pistons within
three points of an NBA crown.
This season alone he has weathered the departure of his two assistants, Ron
Rothstein and Dick Versace, a huge mid-season trade, Adrian Dantley for Mark
Aguirre, the toughest division in basketball, Isiah's broken hand, Michael
Jordan. Look no further than Sunday, the final 28 seconds, when the Pistons
had the game locked -- and almost lost it thanks to two crazy jump- ball calls
and a ridiculous foul on Isiah. "Never easy," Daly lamented, "we never do
anything easy."
Hey. To be honest? I'm surprised the guy is still standing. And look. Not
only standing, but dapper, well-tailored, neatly coiffed. You half expect him
to carry an investment portfolio.
"I still have my hair," he said, patting the back of it, breaking into a
laugh. "I'm glad about that. It helps fool people about my age. . . .
"Of course, that's the only good thing, right? I mean, look at this nose,
this chin, these teeth. I mean, the hair's the only good thing, right?"
Wrong. But that is typical Daly. The glass isn't half full, it's not even
half empty, it's probably filled with cyanide and if you drink from it, you
die. "A pessimist is just an optimist who's been around," Daly says. And OK.
He's been around. He is, after all, almost 59, more than twice the age of most
of his players. Over the years I have seen him knock his education, knock his
looks, knock his own athletic talent and once, after a tough loss, tell the
media: "Practice today will be just long enough to throw up."
But here is the problem. Sometimes Daly is so busy deflecting hope and
dodging compliments, people overlook a simple fact: This guy is a good coach.
No. Wait. I'm gonna go one better than that. He may be the best guy working
today. And he deserves consideration for best in the decade. Am I crazy?
Caught up in the championship fever? Not really. Think about the great coaches
of the '80s, the guys who have won championships: Pat Riley and K.C. Jones.
That's it. They took all but one of the crowns (Billy Cunningham did it with
Philadelphia in 1983). Now consider what they had to work with. Jones had
arguably the best player in the game, Larry Bird, along with Kevin McHale,
Dennis Johnson, Danny Ainge, Robert Parish. Talent. Riley had -- and has --
arguably the best player in the game, Magic Johnson, plus Kareem Abdul-
Jabbar, James Worthy. Talent.
And Daly? He has one superstar who is not even the best at his position,
Isiah Thomas. A guard. A 6-foot-1 guard. Bird and Magic are 6-9. Kareem is
7-feet-2. A guard?
And what else? Bill Laimbeer? Rick Mahorn? Hey. We love these guys in
Detroit, but they are not exactly big star material, folks. You cannot anchor
a team around them.
So instead, wisely, Daly has anchored them around the team. Team defense.
Team speed. Team play. You aren't born running the trap or double-teaming.
That gets taught. Chuck teaches it. He also plays substitutions like an
Olympic TV producer plays the camera angles: Cut to here. Cut to there. Get
Rodman out there, get Vinnie, now Vinnie sits, go to Joe, now Joe sits, gimme
Mark. . . .
You think that's easy? Then try meshing all those personalities -- Thomas,
Laimbeer, Aguirre, Dumars, Rodman -- which are about as homogeneous as the
Tower of Babel. "That's my job," said Daly, shrugging. "You hit it on the
head. Every guy wants to play 48 minutes and score 48 points."
So here is what I want to know: Where are the awards? Where is the
recognition? Why aren't they calling Daly a genius of substitution, a
defensive mastermind, a hardcourt wizard? Huh?
"He deserved coach of the year this year, no question," said Pat Riley.
"With what he did? A big trade mid-season? Won 63 games? But I think he's
falling into a little of what they say about me. He's getting taken for
granted."
Great, six years ago they were saying "Chuck Who?" and today he is
overlooked. Typical Daly.
He went right past "appreciated."
So forgive him if he's a little bit glitzy these days, a few too many
commercials, a few too many TV shows and radio spots. He is, after all,
cashing in the chips pretty late in the game. "It's kind of amusing. Here I
worked all these years, and now, at the end, I'm finally getting some
attention. I hear some people criticize all the stuff I do, but when you get
the chance you've got to take advantage. I could be out in the street at any
time. Remember, my career here has always been checkered in terms of
contracts."
Indeed, last year at this time, he was working the NBA Finals without one.
Looking back, it is remarkable that such a situation occurred. "I think you
media guys missed the boat on that one," he said, still sounding a little
bitter. "If we were in New York, that would have been front-page news."
Instead, Daly took the Pistons to a seventh game against LA, then went the
whole summer before signing -- at a base salary that is still just more than
half of what Riley or Larry Brown is making.
Perhaps that experience, perhaps the fact that this is "my last coaching
job," perhaps time and place and coaching mileage have finally pushed Daly
beyond self-doubt. He will not tolerate much monkey business these days. Not
long after Aguirre arrived here, Daly pulled him aside for a private meeting.
He laid it on the line as far as attitude, weight and the way things are done.
"Just remember, you have one more trade in you," Daly said, "and I won't be
afraid to make it." It seemed the mark of a coach who believed in his system
-- and the mark of a coach who knew he had two years guaranteed on his
contract. They want to fire him? Fine. Until then, he's gonna try to win a
championship -- his way.
"He's more intense this year, no doubt," said Salley, who often takes the
brunt of Daly's outrage. "Last year taught him -- and all of us -- how close
you can get and still not taste it."
Which begs the question: Would Chuck Daly hang it up if he won it all
tonight?
"Not for the fact that we won or lost it," he said, "but maybe for another
position. I'd like to be a part-owner of a team, like Billy Cunningham (in
Miami), and I've spoken to some people about that idea. I could leave before
my contract was up for that. But right now, I need the work -- for money and
for sanity."
And, who knows? Perhaps, tonight, for glory. All the yelling, the
stomachaches, the midnight phone calls, the hoarse throat, the handkerchiefs
full of sweat. Will Chuck Daly learn that there is a payoff after all?
"I'm an Irish realist who understands odds," Daly said when asked to
describe himself. Fine. Then understand this: You're up 3-0, your team is
well-coached, you deserve it. So when they finally pour your champagne, Chuck,
tonight or whenever, try not to look at how full the glass is, OK?
And watch out for Salley.
He's got a wicked left.
CUTLINE:
Chuck Daly at courtside: Still dapper at 58.
Chuck Daly makes his point to a referee; tonight, his stern expression might
finally give way to a smile.
COLUMN;CHUCK DALY;COACH;NBA FINALS;DPISTONS;BASKETBALL;Pistons