<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8801270092
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
880615
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Wednesday, June 15, 1988
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL CHASER
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
NWS
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1A
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>
Photo Color CRAIG PORTER
</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>
SEE ALSO METRO FINAL PAGE 1A
</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1988, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
DETROIT GETS HOT! 
PISTONS EARN 111-86 THE HARD WAY
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
They had the mean look again, the look you do not want to cross. Sweat
down their cheeks, sweat down their arms, sweat dripping off the ends of their
chins. No smiles. No give. The mean look.

  Ooooh.

  "Backs to the wall," the Pistons seemed to say, reciting their playoff
battle cry, as they grunted and pushed and soaked their way to a 111-86 win
over the Los Angeles Lakers, tying this  NBA final at 2-2. "Backs to the wall.
You know what that means?"
  It means this: Isiah Thomas, hobbled with a bad back, taking a charge,
wincing, getting up, playing on; John Salley, beaten to the  hoop by Mychal
Thompson, soaring to slam Thompson's shot against the backboard; Adrian
Dantley, over and over, going to the hoop as if his paycheck was hanging in
the cords.
  "That's the amazing  thing about this team," Dantley, who scored 27
points, said in the locker room afterwards. "We lose, we get all sad,
everybody has these sad faces, and then we come out and play our game. Every
time."
  Backs to the wall.
  Or should we say floor? Did you catch that moment? Thomas and Rickey
Mahorn, both in lower back agony -- The Bruised Brothers -- lying side-by-side
on their stomachs in front  of the Pistons bench. Two of the starting five?
Horizontal? Hey. Who knows? Pretty soon everybody will be doing it.
  "I'm running out of room," coach Chuck Daly said with a wry smile
afterwards.  "I've got no place to walk any more."
  That's OK. If it helps the Pistons play the way they did Tuesday, the
whole team can bring sleeping bags.
  Ooooh.
  What is it with these Pistons? Every  time the experts are ready to bury
them, they come back as if wearing bulletproof vests. In Sunday's Game 3, they
were lethargic, out-of-sync, they seemed overwhelmed by their first home game
in the championships. "It was embarrassing," Vinnie Johnson admitted.
  But if Sunday was a carnival atmosphere, Tuesday was a summer league in a
local gym. All sweat. All business. Play hurt. Play hot.  Just play. 
  So there was Thomas, injured in a Game 3 fall. He could barely move
earlier in the day ("His wife is 10 months pregnant," joked Daly, "and when
she dropped him off, I couldn't tell who  was who.") He was limping,
straining, but he was out there Tuesday, running the club. With seconds left
in the third quarter, he popped out to the three-point corner and fired away.
  Swish!
  "I kept whispering to him all night 'You never felt better, you never felt
better,' " said Salley. "And he'd nod and say, 'Right, you're right, you're
right.' "
  What else could they do? Everyone  knew the script here. The Pistons had
made the opening gambit in this series, beating LA in the Forum. And since
then, their stock had plummeted. A close loss on the coast was followed by an
embarrassing  loss at home, and now, in Game 4, another loss would be
devastating. You could book the weekend barbecue.
  So they came out focused. They came out with the mean look. There was no
concentration problem  this time. The only difficulty Daly had was holding
back all the bench guys who wanted to get in. The Pistons may have been
overwhelmed by the speedy Lakers Sunday, but they wanted them for dinner on
Tuesday. Not as guests.
  As the main course.
  "We should have done this Sunday," said Dennis Rodman. For here, on a hot,
sticky night in a hot, sticky Silverdome, was a reversal of the Game 3
debacle. This time it was the Pistons coming out after halftime of a close
game and putting the thing away. They shut down the Lakers' famous break, they
got Magic Johnson in foul trouble, they never  let up on defense.
  And they made their shots. That always helps. Instead of the clanging
jumpers that let them down in Game 3, the Pistons took it inside, James
Edwards with slam dunks and Dantley  with drives to the hoop.
  "We didn't bump them in the previous game," said Edwards, who rediscovered
his playoff magic with 14 points. "But tonight, Mahorn started bumping them,
then AD, then everybody  was bumping them. They don't like that, and it kind
of threw off their game."
  He lifted the corners of his Fu Manchu mustache.
  The mean look.
  So now, it's Game 5 -- series tied, 2-2 --  and no doubt we'll be singing
the familiar "have to win this one" chorus once again.
  But all playoffs long the Pistons have bounced off the ropes, ducked the
knockout punch, and come back swinging.  "The hard way," Bill Laimbeer has
taken to calling it, and if the Pistons ultimately win this wacky series, they
should have that phrase engraved under the trophy.
  "Can you tell when you're going  to have one of these games?" someone
asked Salley. "Can you feel something beforehand?"
  "Yeah, you can." he said. "It's quieter in here. Everybody's more intense.
You can feel it coming."
  And  they will need it again on Thursday. That will likely be the game in
which the character of these two teams is tested. Someone asked Kareem
Abdul-Jabbar to pick one reason why the series was tied, 2-2,  right now and
he said, "Each team won two games."
  The next one should provide a more thoughtful answer.
  But OK. That's Thursday. For now, take a shower, dry off, and enjoy a
moment of appreciation  for a hobbled Detroit group that still hasn't learned
when to turn out the lights. What do you give a team that fights the odds time
and time again, and keeps coming back, wearing the mean look?
  How about a pat on the back.
  Uh . . . softly, please.
CUTLINE
The Lakers' Byron Scott guards the Pistons' Isiah Thomas during Tuesday's game
at the Silverdome.
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<DISCLAIMER>

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<KEYWORDS>
SPT;DPISTONS;BASKETBALL;GAME;Pistons
</KEYWORDS>
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