In the words of Bob Mould, "Tears fill up my eyes/ I'm washed away with sorrow." fn1. There is no easy way to say it, and frankly I don't want to write it, but the Pistons lost last night. It's over. The magical playoff run, where they never seemed to play up to their potential until it mattered most, is done. Their run as being NBA Champions -- and knowing that they were going to go for a second straight title -- faded into the San Antonio night, as the sum of one poorly-executed offensive possession after another. The Defenders, as Detroit styled themselves during the playoff run, blew their defense a few too many times to get the last W. This probably ranks as the worst sports loss I've ever experienced, but more on that later.
I haven't read any news coverage of the game, nor have I watched any. It's far too painful. I turned off the TV as the final buzzer was sounding, avoiding the cruel sight of the Spurs hugging, the fans celebrating, and confetti raining from the ceiling, as the Pistons trudged dejectedly off the court, shoulders slumped. Of course, Larry Brown and Pop would hug, and congratulate each other. The Spurs and the Pistons would dap, hug, and slap each other on the back. These are two class organizations, with rosters which are, to a man, stocked with classy guys. But that doesn't mean I want to see Detroit getting the "nice try, come again next year" pats on the butt from Bruce Bowen.
Moreover, I couldn't bear to hear the plaudits for Manu Ginobili's clutch play, or the blathering about how Tim Duncan finally came up big in a big game, hitting his free throws and proving that he could be an assassin when needed. But I particularly did not want to hear a single reference to Robert Horry. I swear if I hear another person say "Big Shot Rob" (or worse yet, "Big Shot Bob"), I will have to cram my fist down my throat to keep from vomiting.
Obviously, as a Pistons fan, I have to give credit to the Spurs. They came in and took care of their business enough to win the game. But at the same time, the Pistons could have won this game. They should have won this game. They should have already won this series, probably in six games. That, again, is a topic for later. But despite all their bad play, described below, the Pistons had this game tied well into the fourth quarter. Then they lost it. Yes, the Spurs made big shots, and yes, the Spurs played great defense. But they did those things because Detoit allowed them it through inferior execution.
To me, the Pistons lost for a few key reasons:
1. Terrible defensive rotations throughout the game, but especially at the end. The Pistons gave up too many open three-pointers (many of which the Spurs converted) because of bad defensive rotation. They doubled down on Duncan too much, which left the perimeter open. With a team as well-coached as the Spurs, bringing someone over from the weak side to double is still going to create an open shot, because Duncan will kick out to the perimeter on the strong side and it will get swung over to the weak side through good cross-court ball movement. Too many times, the Pistons' doubles resulted in exactly this happening, leading to open jumpers.
The special killer was at the end of the game, when the Pistons still had an outside chance to come back, and on consecutive possessions, the Spurs exploited the poor rotations to hit long jumpers (one by Duncan from the corner, and a three by Bowen on the wing) with 2 seconds or less on the shot clock. Those two possessions were what broke Detroit's back.
2. Poor perimeter defense, allowing excessive dribble penetration. Listen, I know Ginobili is quick. But the number of times he got into the lane for uncontested layups and dunks was unacceptable. This falls directly on Billups, Hamilton, and Prince. Their bigs were saddled with foul trouble, and couldn't afford to try to contest those shots. They had to keep Ginobili from driving, even if it resulted in him jacking up some threes.
3. Poor offensive execution by Chauncy Billups. I hate to pin anything on Chauncy, who has come up so big so many times. But this time, Mr. Big Shot couldn't deliver, and I belive it was because he tried to force the action too much. Over the last two years, he has vastly improved his ability to "pick his spots" and impose himself on the game. This time, he did so too early and too often. While he made a couple big jumpers, he was dribbling far too much in the fourth quarter rather than moving the ball. Credit this partially to the Spurs' defense, which was locked down on his teammates. But he should have moved the ball more, rather than running 15 seconds off the shot clock trying to create something himself. Some of the shots he jacked up were ill-advised, to say the least. The most disturbing failure, however, was Detroit's refusal to take advantages of certain mismatches on the offensive end. Once Bowen switched to guarding Billups, Hamilton had an extreme mismatch on Brent Barry. Billiups needed to force-feed him the ball and let Rip abuse Barry. In addition, Prince should have been able to create over Ginobili. But he didn't have the ball. This leads to point 4.
4. The disappearance of Tayshaun Prince. All season, the Pistons said Prince was their MVP, and he played like it. Not in the finals, however. Over the course of seven games, he pulled a bigger disappearing act than Houdini. Sure, he got a shot here and there. He made some defensive plays, and collected some good rebounds and loose balls. But this guy has crazy offensive capabilities. There is absolutely no reason why he didn't exert his will on the Spurs. Ben Wallace played a far larger role in the offense than Tayshaun, and that pretty much sums up the Pistons' problems.
5. The officiating. I am not going to blame the game on stripes, and I certainly think it was called fairly. It was just called terribly -- a Game 7 in the NBA Finals should not be decided based on ticky-tack calls. Let the players play. The foul trouble destroyed Detroit's rhythm, both offensively and defensively, from the first quarter on. With Billups having to sit out a substantial chunk of the first quarter, and Rasheed Wallace being handcuffed for most of the game, the Pistons' offense could never get into a flow. More importantly, with all three bigs (Ben, Rasheed, and McDyess) in foul trouble for the entire game, the defense had to play scared all night. Even though players were trying to adjust to the way the game was being called, when you already have 3 fouls and it's the first minute of the third quarter, it's impossible to play anything close to agressive defense for fear of picking up the next foul. Anytime you see the team playing a lineup of Elden Campbell, Tayshaun Prince, Rip Hamilton, Lindsey Hunter, and Chauncy Billups in Game 7, you KNOW there is going to be a serious falloff in the level of play.
So that's that. It's over. Any other year, against any other team, I would be happy to see the Spurs win. But instead, it's one of the most bitter feelings I've ever felt. Why is this loss so painful? Most importantly, it's because it's the decisive game of the NBA Finals. There are no "ifs, ands, or buts." If you lose a series in six games, it doesn't hurt as much, because you know that even if you had won Game 6, you still would have had to win Game 7. Nothing is guaranteed. Here, you know you would have been champions if you could have just gotten 7 extra points. It also hurts because after seven games in the series (and 25 games in the playoffs), you're so invested in the team. You've been living and dying with them, hoping against hope that they'll pull it out in the end. Then the end comes, and they didn't pull it out. The disappointment is stark.
Other factors make the end of the Pistons' run particularly difficult. It may well be the close of their championship era. Larry Brown may be leaving town. While the team returns its core players, next year will be an uphill battle. Indiana will be back, fully staffed, and looking for revenge. Miami will have Wade (presumably improved as he gets even more experience) and Shaq looking for a trip to the Finals. Chicago is rapidly improving, while Cleveland, as LeBron grows as a player, is only going to get better. In the West, the Spurs look to have the beginning of a dynasty. Parker and Ginobili are still young, and they will get better, while TD will continue to put up his 20 and 10 for at least another five years. The Suns, the Mavs, the Rockets, and the Sonics will challenge them as well. There is certainly not going to be a clear road to the title for future Pistons squads.
Greatness can be so fleeting. I remember when I first became a sports fan, the Pistons were in the middle of their Back to Back title run in 1989/1990. Being new to this whole "sports fan" thing, I had no understanding of the historical significance of winning an NBA title, and the difficulty of going back. In 1991, the Pistons were swept by the Bulls in the East Finals. The next year, they lost a difficult five-game series to the Knicks, starting a run of ten years without winning a playoff series and many difficult, mediocre seasons. The window of opportunity can be slammed shut very quickly, and it's painful to fail to take advantage of opportunity when it presents itself. fn2.
But perhaps the most painful part of this Pistons loss is that it was so unexpected. Over the past two years, the Pistons have made a habit of winning, no matter what the odds. Even though your brain is telling you that there is no reasonable way they can win, they will win. This is the most mentally tough team in the league. Before last night, they had won 10 straight close out games, and over the past three seasons, they were 8-1 in elimination games. So even though San Antonio had so many advantages, you just assumed the Pistons would pull it out. Particularly when the score was tied in the fourth quarter, you had to like Detroit's chances, even though the wheels were falling off the offense and the defense was as open as a 24-hour 7/11. But they just couldn't convert. And when a gut feeling that was entrenched in your soul is torn away from you, thrown in a blender, ground up, and then sprinkled down on your head like the confetti drifting from the SBC Center roof, that, my friends, hurts.
1. These lyrics are the opening line of "If I Can't Change Your Mind," off Sugar's Copper Blue album.2. To demonstrate the elusiveness of an NBA title, think about this stat: Over the past 26 years (since the 1979-1980 season -- basically my lifetime), only seven teams have won titles. (If you're interested, the breakdown is: L.A. Lakers - 8; Chicago Bulls - 6; Boston Celtics - 3; Detroit Pistons - 3; San Antonio Spurs - 3; Houston Rockets - 2; Philadelphia 76ers - 1.) Over shorter periods of time, the dominance is even more pronounced, as the 15-year period during which the Lakers, Celtics, Bulls, Pistons, and Rockets dominated all the titles, with the Rockets only winning because Jordan was playing baseball. If you were in the NBA during those years, and didn't play for one of those teams, your chances of a ring were basically nonexistant. Just ask Barkley, Drexler, Wilkins, et al.
