Detroit Free Press

Don't try this at home. Ben Wallace takes his left wrist in his right hand and squeezes. The wrist shifts, making a soft cracking noise that sends a shiver down an observer's spine.And that's his good hand."That's what happens when I'm shooting free throws," he says, flopping the right hand now - the one that has been injured for years. "I can shoot 10 straight good ones. On the 11th, it just slips out. I don't know when it's gonna happen.""And you have to fix it," I ask, "right there on the free-throw line?""Yeah.""You just pop it back in?"

The day he signed here, as an NBA rookie fresh out of Duke, his father had to race off and purchase a razor and shaving cream to get rid of his son's "college peach fuzz." Grant Hill had never used a razor before - always used electric - and all through the news conference, "my face was killing me."

Joey Harrington sounded like a kid who had just gotten his acceptance letter to college."I'm going to Miami," he crowed.He was speaking on a cell phone from Washington, a city he had never visited. He was doing the tourist thing, he said, standing in front of the Jefferson Memorial. It's a place kids go on their class trips. But for Harrington, the longest tour of his life finally had concluded. He'd found a new team. He'd settled on a new city. All that remained was the legal separation from Detroit.

He had tried the slapshot. He had tried the rebound. He had tried the quick flick. So when he came down the ice early in overtime, puck on his stick, crowd on its feet, Johan Franzen, with eight failed shots on the night, made a decision for No. 9."I was gonna try," he said, "and deke him and go backhand.""Why that?" he was asked."Well, the other shots didn't seem to work."

He had tried the slap shot. He had tried the rebound. He had tried the quick flick. So when he came down the ice early in overtime, puck on his stick, crowd on its feet, Johan Franzen, with eight failed shots on the night, made a decision for No. 9."I was gonna try," he said, "and deke him and go backhand.""Why that?" he was asked."Well, the other shots didn't seem to work."

So now we enter 'Sheed's world.Looking for a 'Ship.He'll collect his T's. He'll play his D.He'll grab his 'bounds. Hit his 3's.He loves those W's. He hates an L.And you know he'll 'xplode.But what the 'ell?It's an apostrophe world, the Rasheed Wallace universe, where a 'Ship for the 'Stons is the ultimate goal. But there is no shortcutting this reality: The Pistons will go as far as Wallace takes 'em, and as far as he lets 'em.

Let's start with the one you haven't heard of. His name is Valtteri Filppula, although most call him "Fil," some call him "Val," his nickname is listed as "Flip," and I've heard him referred to as "the Finn"- since he is the first true Finnish player to play for the Red Wings. Whatever you call him, he is a surprise. He just turned 23 and has one of those soft, young hockey faces that you see up close - dirty-blond hair, deep-set eyes, few whiskers - and you think, in another life, this kid is on Tiger Beat magazine and not scoring two goals in his first two NHL playoff games.

Steve Yzerman wore a charcoal suit and a dark tie and he sat way up in the highest row in Joe Louis Arena. From here, you'll note, it is impossible to cast a shadow."It's their team now," he said.And down on the ice, indeed it was. The Red Wings began their real season Thursday night, the only one anyone around here cares about, the playoffs, the opener, and if you haven't watched them since Yzerman was wearing the "C," well, they looked different.