Ladies, gentlemen, faculty, students — thank you for inviting me to be your commencement speaker.
Boooo!
Wait. I haven’t said anything yet.
Boooo!
Yes, I know I was a last-minute replacement. Your Republican governor couldn’t come because he’s afraid of getting booed. Your Democratic senator couldn’t come because he’s afraid of getting booed. Your rock star alumnus couldn’t come because he once wrote a song for the Dixie Chicks. So they asked me.
Boooo!
There’s a movie out now in which Jim Carrey gets to be God for a while. And I figure, if he can, why can’t Joe Dumars? I mean, Carrey never won NBA executive of the year.
So, while he is Joe Almighty, here are my suggestions for Dumars’ Ten Commandments of the Off-Season.
1. THOU SHALT THINK POSTSEASON.
In the days after Jayson Blair resigned in shame from the New York Times, everyone tried to reach him. Television, radio, newspapers, magazines, old friends, colleagues. He spoke to almost no one.
But he did call one person — an agent named David Vigliano about a book and movie deal. Those deals are now in motion. And that’s all you need to know about Jayson Blair.
EAST RUTHERFORD, N.J. — A few days from now, when the Pistons are packing for their summer vacations, this will be a night that will haunt them. Right now they have reasons, justifications, they have moments they can point to, cliches they can fall back on. And they have at least one more game to play.
He moves like a water bug, so fast that sometimes all you see is the streak of where he was. Into the corner, back into the middle, through two defenders, back into the corner, grab the ball, turn, shoot. Richard (Rip) Hamilton is such a whirling dervish that you’re not sure where his shots really begin. Is it when he flicks his wrist, or when he lifts his arms, or when he lifts his legs, or when he starts running 10 seconds before he ever gets the ball? One thing is certain, when that ball comes, there is little hesitation as to whether it’ll be launched.
Let her Rip.
It was coming down like hot wax, drip, drip, another fourth-quarter lead, another wild crowd, all melting away in concert with the clock, as if the whole thing had been orchestrated ahead of time. An 11-point lead whittled away like a stick on the wrong end of a penknife. Turnovers. Missed shots. Missed free throws. Booing the refs.
And finally, on Tuesday, as it did on Sunday, the final Pistons shot missed the mark — this time a long jumper by Chauncey Billups into the outstretched body of Jason Kidd — and even the margin of defeat was the same.
Two points down.
That was no accident, folks. That last desperate play of Sunday’s Game 1, in which the Pistons tried an alley-oop pass with 1.4 seconds left — a damn hard thing to do, even with veterans — was drawn up to go from Tayshaun Prince to Mehmet Okur.
Rookie to rookie.
And it almost worked.
“Yeah,” Rick Carlisle said Monday, when I asked whether he realized he’d put the game in the hands of two players who had yet to see their 24th birthdays.
“That was what we called. I’m not interested in how old they are at that point. I’m looking for who can get the job done.”
If you look carefully during these Pistons playoff games, you will observe a small but remarkable ritual.
After every buzzer, as the Pistons head back to the floor, reserve Danny Manning, once the greatest college basketball talent in the nation, taps fists with each man to urge them on.
“It’s the only way I feel part of the game,” he says. “It’s like a little bit of electricity passes through them to me.”
The only newsletter dedicated to updates, exclusive content, and giveaways of Mitch's books!
