9001060023
DETROIT FREE PRESS
900208
Thursday, February 08, 1990
METRO FINAL
1D
Photo Color WILLIAM ARCHIE
:
James Edwards averaged 7.3 points and 16.5 minutes last
season. Since becoming a starter, he is around 15 points and 29
minutes.
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1990, Detroit Free Press
THE BUDDHA TRAIN
PISTONS HITCH A RIDE ON EDWARDS' LATE-RISING STAR
He likes boats. You probably didn't know that. He keeps one in a Detroit
marina, complete with bathroom, shower, microwave, couch -- "That ain't a
boat, that's a house!" says teammate Mark Aguirre -- and sometimes during the
season he'll go down and sit in that boat, not going anywhere, just rocking on
the water and taking it all in.
You can picture James Edwards that way, rocking gently, maybe a pipe
slipped under that Fu Manchu mustache. Although he is an athlete in superb
physical condition, there is something almost grandfatherly about him,
something warm and sleepy- looking, a quality that has earned him the
nickname "Buddha." Or maybe it's the company he keeps. After all, he is the
oldest Piston. Some of his teammates weren't even in high school when he
turned pro. For a while, they might have called him "Grandpops."
Not anymore.
"We're riding the Buddha Train right now," says John Salley, referring to
the Pistons' success following Edwards' resurgence. "In practice, we say,
'Ride that Buddha train tonight, baby! Buddha Train!' "
Well. You can't knock the ride. Last November, on a warm night in
Sacramento, Edwards jogged out for the opening tap, alongside Isiah Thomas,
Joe Dumars, Bill Laimbeer and Aguirre. And Detroit has been almost unstoppable
ever since. The Pistons have averaged three victories out of every four games
since Edwards became a starter. His points (around 15 a game since) are
double last year's average. His minutes (29 a game) have increased
dramatically. He has given the Pistons their first real low-post threat in
years. In fact, they are looking for him so much, that Aguirre figured he'd
get the ball more if he weren't starting alongside Edwards and asked to come
off the bench.
Funny, no? Here was an aging veteran who figured he was gone last summer.
Had his bags packed. And now he's a star. Funny, but then, for Edwards, who
loves the water, this is hardly the first time the tide has changed.
I was drafted by the Lakers in the third round of 1977, and nobody
expected me to make the team," he says. "I remember Kareem (Abdul-Jabbar) told
me not to get discouraged. He invited me and a couple other rookies to his
house one time. We were like 'Oh, god! This is Kareem's house! Look at all
this stuff!'
"Anyhow, I did make the team. Then, one night against Milwaukee, Kareem hits
Kent Benson in the face, hurts his hand, and suddenly, I'm in the lineup. I'm
playing a lot. As a rookie. Then Kareem comes back, and I get called into the
office. Jerry West is in there. He says, 'We didn't want to do it, James. But
we traded you to Indiana. For Adrian Dantley.' Just like that. And I say,
'WHAT?' "
Thus began the education of a Buddha. He flew to Indiana that afternoon,
landed in a snowstorm and played that night, alongside strangers. It would
happen again, in the years that followed in Cleveland, Phoenix and Detroit.
"This is the NBA," he said to himself.
Not that it had been his lifelong dream. James Franklin Edwards, the only
son of a Seattle engineer, was a reluctant athlete, a kid who liked to hang
out by the water, a kid who shied away from aggression. But he was always so
much taller than his schoolmates. And so he was nudged toward sports, until
one day he said to himself, "I guess this is what I am supposed to do."
Today he is 34. In 13 seasons, this is what pro basketball has given him:
three trades, free agency, injury, wealth, a championship ring and a nasty
drug controversy that left him believing "you can't trust anyone."
No wonder he looks so . . . experienced.
The drug thing was the worst. They called it the Phoenix Witch Hunt. In
1987, Edwards and several Suns teammates were indicted on charges of
trafficking cocaine and marijuana. Edwards' name was mentioned in rumors of
point-shaving.
It was an ugly, drawn-out affair. Eventually, Edwards was found guilty
only of a possession of marijuana charge and, after a year of counseling, his
record was wiped clean. But the incident haunts him today.
"It still affects the way I think," he says. "I learned people will smile in
your face but be looking out only for themselves. I was an easygoing guy in
Phoenix. I would have helped anybody. I learned my lesson.'
Edwards, traded from the Suns the following year, maintains his innocence
in the affair, saying "I don't do things like that." But the testimony given
against him by former teammate Walter Davis has made him wonder whom he can
trust. Wouldn't you feel the same? So he turned inward. Once, his parties
were well-known. But these days Edwards is more private. He prefers his boat
or his Detroit home. He is single ("I would marry the right woman, but I just
haven't met her yet"). And he spends more time with Nintendo games than with
party invitations.
"I have all the friends I need," he says. "It takes me a long time now to
trust anybody or to open up. That Phoenix thing really hurt me and my family.
I'm still not over it."
Detroit fans, however, seem less interested in Edwards' past than in his
present. His trademark fade-away jumpers have been so consistent, the bench
players yell, "FADE, BUDDHA, FADE!" Like a branding iron, he heats up quickly,
often from the opening tap: bang, bang, bang, he's got six fast point. Then,
when the opposing team doubles up on him, he swings the ball out to Thomas or
Dumars for easy shots. He bangs his body and plays sticky defense, like the
job he did Sunday afternoon on Utah's Karl Malone. And the Palace crowd eats
it up. "Buddha" has crept into its affections, not only because he is the type
of hero that goes over well in Detroit -- quiet, blue-collar -- but because
he has done something few thought possible: Taken the sting out of losing Rick
Mahorn.
Everyone knows the story. Last summer, two days after the Pistons won the
NBA title. Someone had to be sacrificed in the expansion draft. Edwards was
sure it was him.
Surprise. Mahorn went instead. The news hit Edwards in the head and the
heart. The heart said he was losing a buddy. The head said: "The Pistons
think I'm valuable."
Last November, he got the chance to prove it. After 12 games of the new
season, Detroit was floundering. Salley had been starting in place of Mahorn.
The chemistry did not work. Following a bad loss in Portland, Chuck Daly
pulled Edwards aside: "I'm starting you next game."
The rest has been glory. What once seemed like a good stretch has turned
into a habit. And the Buddha Train chugs on and on. Which leads to the
question: How long can a 34-year-old keep this star stuff up?
"Well," he laughs, "I'm the old man, you know. I'm not used to all this
starting. That's for the young kids."
Then, more seriously: "I think I can play at this level the rest of the
way. I'm more confident now. It's definitely the most significant I've been
to a team in my career."
He talks of one day taking an easier road. Of putting the boat in the water
near his native Seattle and "enjoying the peace and quiet." Third-round draft
pick, four trades, one drug scandal, one championship ring and now, finally,
stardom. If you were to draw James Edwards' career, you might draw an
upside-down Christmas tree, with all the presents coming at the top.
"Is it better to have success early or late in an NBA career?' he is asked.
He smiles and squints.
"Better late," he says, "than never."
JAMES EDWARDS; STATISTIC; BIOGRAPHY