HEY, NOW THAT’S MORE LIKE IT FOR THE PISTONS
BOSTON – It may not be the old Garden, with the rats and the bad air and the stifling summer heat, but this new Garden has been magical to this year’s Boston Celtics. And now that magic is done. Whatever role the parquet floor played in the 2008 playoffs – allowing the Celtics to go a perfect 9-0 – was smashed Thursday night by the only team these days that seems unaffected by geography, or anything else for that matter.
Beat the House.
The Pistons had to do it at some point if they wanted to win the series, and they did it in Game 2 the old fashioned way: They tried harder.
DENGED UP PISTONS BLOW CHANCE TO SWEEP ASIDE BULLS
CHICAGO – Ben Wallace stood at the loneliest place in his world, the free-throw line. He dribbled. He shot. Swish. He dribbled. He shot. Swish again. The place exploded. Ben nodded. The fans had their cheer. The Bulls had their win, 102-87.
And the Pistons had another game to play.
They are on borrowed time now, these Pistons; they are borrowing it from themselves. Every quarter they extend this series is a quarter they should be saving for the next one. Every minute they play these Bulls is a minute they should be resting up for someone else.
IT’S ALL SYSTEMS GO FOR PISTONS’ ROBO-PRINCE
I sometimes have this vision of Tayshaun Prince as a long, lean robot, a super cyborg sent from the future. He is already cut at sharp angles, neck to shoulder, shoulder to elbow, as if metal were welded just beneath the flesh. He rarely shows emotion. He doesn’t sweat easily. And if you could crawl behind his eyes during crucial moments, I swear you’d see those flashing screens that give you digital info about everything in front of you.
Listen to Tayshaun explain the shot he hooked in to win Game 4 in Orlando.
ALL SYSTEMS GO FOR PISTONS’ ROBO-PRINCE
I sometimes have this vision of Tayshaun Prince as a long, lean robot, a super cyborg sent from the future. He is already cut at sharp angles, neck to shoulder, shoulder to elbow, as if metal were welded just beneath the flesh. He rarely shows emotion. He doesn’t sweat easily. And if you could crawl behind his eyes during crucial moments, I swear you’d see those flashing screens that give you digital info about everything in front of you.
Listen to Tayshaun explain the shot he hooked in to win Game 4 in Orlando.
PISTONS TAKE IT QUICKLY, QUIETLY
The nice thing about a Pistons-Pacers game is you go in with such low entertainment expectations a fast break seems like Paul McCartney doing “Yesterday.” You want to scream.
Well, let ‘er rip. When Ben Wallace is playing like a mad scoring machine, when the Pistons have 52 points at halftime, when you can actually hear their thundering feet moving downcourt with (gulp) speed — then holler away.
Because you know the night will at least be fun — and most likely victorious.
ETIQUETTE RULES FOR PISTONS FANS
Like it or not, the Pistons are playing the Pacers again, starting tonight at the Palace. So listen up, because these are the rules:
1. If you can drink it, you can’t throw it.
2. Popcorn goes in your mouth.
3. It’s a buzzer, not a boxing bell.
4. Chill.
5. If a player lies on the scorer’s table, give him a break: Maybe he’s tired.
6. Ron Artest is not playing. There’s no reason to scream at him.
7. It’s a ticket, not a hunting license.
8. It’s a hot dog, not a missile.
9. Be nice with your ice.
10. Be like Yoda with your soda.
PISTONS WIN GAME, IVERSON’S RESPECT
On a night when LeBron James sat near the Detroit bench – two earrings, one pair of shades, one shirttail hanging from his sweater – and Chuck Daly sat a few feet away – one blazer, one silk necktie, one full head of hair – you could argue that the Pistons were surrounded by the future and the past. But this night was about the present. And the present was tense.
UGLY, BUT PISTONS PLAY BY RULESGAME 1? IT’S A DUD, EXCEPT FOR DUMARS
That sound — clank! — you heard — whompf! — from inside — thud! — the Palace — whifff! — was, believe it or not, the NBA Eastern Conference finals. At least that’s what they call it in May. In February it’s just a game where a lot of people miss their shots.
ISN’T IT ABOUT TIME DUMARS GOT HIS DUE?
He came back to the bench during every time-out, sweating like a coal miner. He did not look up, not at the screaming crowd, not at his teammates, not at his coaches. He had a semi- dazed expression that seemed to say,
“Don’t bother me, now. I’m working.”
FOR BETTER OR WORSE, DUMARS TAKES PISTONS
LATER TODAY, the Pistons will name Joe Dumars their president of basketball operations and George Irvine their coach. This is interesting news, maybe even good news. But it is pretty much like saying, “We’ve got the tanks and the maps; all we need now are the soldiers.”
In the NBA, as in war, the soldiers are the story.
