9001210090
DETROIT FREE PRESS
900530
Wednesday, May 30, 1990
METRO FINAL
1D
MITCH ALBOM
SEE ALSO METRO EDITION PAGE 1D
Copyright (c) 1990, Detroit Free Press
WHEN WILL THE PISTONS HEAR FROM THEIR FANS?
I am about to say something that has needed to be said, and I hope you
forgive me if it sounds a little blunt:
We stink.
I am talking about fans at the Palace. I am talking about their attitude
and their volume. I am saying it now, because if this city really wants the
Pistons to get serious tonight against the Bulls, well, we ought to heed our
own advice.
Let's be honest: The atmosphere at the Palace is no better than mediocre
compared to other NBA arenas. Compared to a place such as Chicago Stadium,
where your bones rattle on every basket, the Palace is comatose. It needs a
transfusion. For this, I blame the Pistons' front office, which has turned the
building into one endless commercial; and I blame the fans, many of whom seem
to think making noise doesn't go with comparing Calvin Klein sweaters. Hey.
You in the ninth row. The game is out here. On the big wooden floor, remember?
People from out of town laugh at what goes on inside this arena. Here we
are, with the best basketball team in the country, and we act as though
we're watching MTV -- that is, when we're not playing trivia quizzes or
leaving early to beat the traffic. Personally, I would like to line up a few
thousand real fans outside the Palace, and every time someone leaves early,
one of those people gets to take the empty seat and keep it for the rest of
the playoffs.
And that's just one idea . . .
That screen makes me scream
1. Shut Off The Big Screen. If you ask me, the biggest problem with the
Palace is that monstrosity hanging from the rafters. It's like being
hypnotized. Every time there's a break in the action, the giant screen takes
over: "And now, for tonight's Comedy Clips!" Boom. Two minutes worth of John
Belushi or Steve Martin. "And now for tonight's Nestles Crunch Time Moment!'
Boom. Two minutes of highlights. There are quizzes, games, electronic ball
races. I swear, the biggest cheers at the Palace are for those three stupid
balls.
It's ridiculous. Since when does an NBA game need more commercials? It
has gotten so that as soon as there's a time- out, everybody looks up,
including, sometimes, the players. It's surreal. You become so passive
watching that scoreboard you barely notice the game has resumed.
If they shut that thing off, people would naturally be more anxious to get
back to the action. They'd count the seconds. They'd stir and rumble. And
when play finally resumed, they'd be ready to roar. Hey. You want to watch
Belushi? Rent a videocassette. Give your ticket to a real fan.
2. Leave The Court To The Players. Once upon a time, the court was a holy
place. But at the Palace, during time-outs, we have children and teenagers and
bankers and advertising execs running all over it, shooting baskets for
prizes. There's the "Michigan State Lottery Three Point Shootout," where some
bozo gets escorted out by two scantily clad tuxedo girls and inevitably throws
up a whiff. There's the "Dunham's Fast Break Contest," a shameless
exploitation of two children who race up the floor trying to sink a basket
first. For heaven's sake, they're just kids. The loser always looks like he's
going to cry.
I lose count of all the different shooting promotions. One time, a guy
almost bumped into Joe Dumars trying to throw up an extra shot as he walked
off the court. What, Michael Jordan is not enough? We have to see "Ralph, from
Novi" make an ass of himself?
3. Thank you, Mr. Announcer. While Ken Calvert is a nice guy and does a
credible job in calling players' names, someone has apparently told him this
is The Comedy Castle, particularly at halftime. He kibitzes and wisecracks
about shooters in these goofy promotions, which only makes the Palace seem
like Amateur Night. Enough. Give it a rest.
NOISE! Not dogs and ponies
Now, please. I am not trying to be a party poop. What I want is to
enhance the party. This is a basketball game, not a sideshow. You want fancy
clothes and elegant behavior, try the Whitney. I hear the food is good.
But to inspire pro ballplayers, to make them go for that rebound when
their chests are heaving, to make them dive for the ball when their legs are
heavy, you need noise, not electronic dots. I promise you, the Bulls could
not have done what they did Monday without that thunderous crowd. The Pistons
deserve an equal weapon. And they shouldn't have to provide a dog and pony
show.
As evidence, I point to Madison Square Garden, where there is absolutely
nothing going on during time-outs. No jokes. No contests. And the place is
LOUD, the fans go BERSERK. Remember, these are hardened New Yorkers, who must
worry each time they stand up that someone will steal their wallet. If they
can do it, we can.
And don't tell me about rich people not cheering. Palace tickets are less
expensive than those at the LA Forum, and about the same as Chicago, Boston,
Portland and New York -- and you can't hear yourself think in those arenas.
Besides, since when does your income affect your vocal chords?
No. It's about attitude, same as it is for the Pistons right now. If the
front office really wanted to help tonight, they'd forsake a few advertising
dollars and turn off the Big Screen. And fans, simply stated, it's stand up
or shut up. Unfortunately, we already know you can do the latter.
COLUMN; CRITICISM; DPISTONS; FAN; REACTION;Pistons