The Ghost of Otis Thorpe: How Darko Milicic Became America’s Least Wanted July 14, 2007
Posted by Austin Kent in Uncategorized.add a comment
I’m a homer. I can’t deny it, I won’t even try. But unlike most homers who follow their favourite teams through thick and painfully thin, my love is devoted, not to a franchise, but to a single player. That single player just signed a three-year contract with the worst team in last year’s NBA.
Stop for a second and try to defend a player who’s career averages cap off at 15.0 minutes and 5.0 points per game. Tough huh? But I’ve never loved Darko Milicic for what he’s brought to the court, performance-wise anyway.
I recall May 22nd, 2003. There I sat, a die-hard Pistons fan with a dear friend and the only long-time Grizzlies fan on the planet (except for maybe Bryant Reeves’ mom), in my living room watching the NBA Lottery. It was, as I’m sure you remember, the LeBron James sweepstakes, kind of like the Greg Oden sweepstakes, but on crack. We watched Russ Granik list off picks 13 through four, a fairly uneventful event. Then came the commercial break. You know, the one they always put before the final three picks are announced.
With three teams left in the running to snag King James, Denver fans waited impatiently in their homes throughout the country, meanwhile Cleveland fans lost their mind about the prospect of LeBron staying in Ohio. And then there was Memphis. There we sat silently, my friend, myself, and the ghost of Otis Thorpe.
For those who don’t remember, the Vancouver Grizzlies (emphasis on Vancouver) gave up a protected first-round pick in order to weasel Thorpe away from the Pistons just prior to the 1997-98 season. Since the pick was protected, it meant that if the Grizzlies did happen to win the lottery they would keep the pick and honour their commitment to Detroit the following draft. Anything shy of the first overall pick, though, and it was being sent to Michigan as compensation for the 47 games the Grizzlies got from Thorpe in 1998.
Granik returns. The third pick in the 2003 NBA Draft is awarded to the Denver Nuggets.
I remember seeing the look on my friend’s face and thinking it symbolized hope. Here, a long-time sufferer of sub-30 win seasons and the aforementioned Big Country, was just one pick away from nabbing the extremely coveted LeBron James in the following month’s draft. I, on the other hand, was just a spoiled Pistons fan coming fresh off an appearance in the Eastern Conference Finals.
Then, without further ado, Granik returned and announced that the second pick would be awarded to Memphis and subsequently Detroit. LeBron James was staying home, Grizzlies fans world-wide lost all faith in life, and I was running around my house, twirling a Ben Wallace jersey in the air and chanting as if Canada had just won the World Cup.
As karma would have it, Joe Dumars passed on Carmelo Anthony, Chris Bosh and Dwyane Wade. Even Kirk Hinrich and Josh Howard. But that’s okay because we got the biggest punchline in the NBA, an 84-inch Serbian victory cigar.
After two and half disappointing years in Detroit, Dumars quickly realized his alleged mistake and shipped off Milicic to the Orlando Magic for Kelvin Cato and the 2007 draft pick that became Rodney Stuckey.
I’ve been asked countless times how I can root for a player like Darko, my peers and colleagues constantly call him selfish and a primadonna. They’ve asked how a player can take offence to playing in garbage time without having played the entire game, and why he expects everybody to treat him as though he’s already paid his dues in the NBA.
Rooting for Darko Milicic is like rooting for an underdog that everybody hates. But the best part is that Milicic doesn’t care. He’s Kobe Bryant without the accomplishments. He’s that foreign kid you think is arrogant because they refuse to conform to North American traditions.
He’s the one responsible for this quote from last year’s European Championships about his newest teammate…
“We’ll destroy them all — Spaniards, Greeks, Lithuanians, Russians, Frenches, Italians … All of them! They’re good, but we can demolish them all,” Milicic said. “Spain is not unbeatable. I like to play against Pau Gasol, he’s soft. If we win gold medal in Spain, I’ll take my shirt off and then I will jump from Parliament.”
He’s the one who sat on the Pistons’ bench with a dirty mustache and slicked-back, bleached-blonde hair just weeks before his trade to the Magic.In a time where we’re seeing more and more foreign players succeed in the NBA, Milicic embodies some much needed European flair. But since Darko’s attitude contrasts with what we’re used to on this continent, we’re turned off by it.
He doesn’t say all the things we expect to hear from a converted American like Dirk Nowitzki, and he hasn’t married an American popular culture icon like Tony Parker, but his bizarre passion to show that he belongs on the court anywhere with anyone is shared by North Americans at every level.
On a team as desperate as the 2007 Grizzlies, Darko will be given an opportunity to prove himself as a legit big man. And while he may never prove his worth as the second overall pick in the best draft in recent history, there’s still plenty of hope for the four-year-vet who turned 22 years old less than a month ago.
And if not, he’s still one of the most intriguing personalities in the NBA.
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Like a fat kid to cake, destiny can’t be denied June 3, 2007
Posted by Austin Kent in Cleveland Cavaliers, Detroit Pistons.add a comment
Time of death: 11:47 pm. Although it could be argued the Detroit Pistons were dead long before that. Minutes before? Days before? Eitherway, The fat lady sang. Was it unrealistic to think that my faith in my favourite basketball team would be enough to trump the greatest destiny in professional sports?
The Pistons didn’t just lose, they got ruined, along with the hopes and dreams of that little white kid with the glasses who paints stuff on his chest and dances at the Palace.
They had me convinced though. Maybe I was wrong to give them the unconditional benefit of the doubt. We’re only down 3 games to 2, we’re fine.
But just minutes into the fourth quarter and the Cavaliers had finally broken the Pistons. They’d won the previous three games, but at that one particular moment in time, when Rasheed Wallace picked up his fifth (and then sixth) foul, you could see it. Like the side of a mountain slowly breaking off and crumbling to the ground below, there was little you could do but watch and swear and cry.
I lied to myself and said Wallace’s theatrics might motivate the Pistons to come back and win the game, but there’s no cheating destiny.
The saddest part of the break down was watching Antonio McDyess grab his furious teammate’s arms and usher him off the court. You could see as Dice’s big brown eyes screamed “don’t you dare put my chance to win a ring in jeopardy”, while the rest of his body balanced being a friend and snapping Sheed’s neck.
What happened next is nothing to be ashamed of, the torch was passed. It wasn’t stolen, it wasn’t lost, the Pistons didn’t play out of character, the Cavaliers simply earned a completely legit seat on top of the Eastern Conference.
The Cavaliers deserve to be in the NBA Finals and I pray to God they win. As much as I hate Drew Gooden and Anderson Varejao and wish they would spontaneously combust, I’ll be cheering for them to get their rings. I hate Bruce Bowen more than them anyway.
Seeing LeBron James leap into the arms of Zydrunas Ilgauskas and latch on to the big Lithuanian in complete euphoria was something of legend. A completely genuine, unrehearsed, and certainly unpredicted, display of emotion. It was the consumation of LeBron’s marriage to success, and the latest chapter in the greatest story since Michael Jordan.
Damn it, I just remembered the Pistons lost.
The day of judgement June 2, 2007
Posted by Austin Kent in Cleveland Cavaliers, Detroit Pistons.add a comment
In less than five hours the Eastern Conference Finals may very well be over.
Without getting into all the bloody details of LeBron James’ recent triumph over humanity, we’ve got nothing left to do but sit, wait, and pray.
Like hurricane victims stranded on the roofs of their homes, basketball fans around the world are trapped, terrified and intimidated of what they’ve just born witness to, all the while inherently amazed that such an outrageous act of God could even happen in the first place.
And like those victims stranded on their homes, there’s no going back. We’re left to ride out the storm, reminded of our own mortality.
Game 6 throws down tonight, in Cleveland, at 8:30 pm.
Somewhere, as I type this, Chauncey Billups and Richard Hamilton exchange eye contact, they know what they have to do.
At the other side of the room Rasheed Wallace is stretching his face muscles, prepping for the emotional epic that’s to come.
Meanwhile Chris Webber sits in isolation, staring at a worn piece of paper with nothing but an image of the Larry O’Brien, he folds it, tucks it away in his wallet, adjusts his headband and leaves the room.
Down the hall in a dimly lit office, Tayshaun Prince lies on an oversized couch as psychologists poke and pry at his brain, desperate to unlock the chamber that has engulfed his confidence.
Like the scene in Independence Day when Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum fly into the alien mothership, the mood is somber and the world is anxious.
The time has come.
So which is it, the Detroit Pistons or LeBron’s destiny?
The birth of cool February 9, 2007
Posted by Austin Kent in Uncategorized.add a comment
Here I am, immersed in my unemployment. There’s really no glorifying or hiding the fact that while my peers were off getting an early lead on their summer jobs, I was sitting in my stuffy little dorm room playing Xbox 360 and watching the NCAA tournament until my eyes bled.
Two months later and not much has changed. The NCAA tournament has been conveniently replaced by the NBA playoffs and that same 360 I spoke of has since fallen ill (damn you Microsoft), but the general theme of my life has more or less remained untouched.
Considering I spend the majority of my jobless existance focused on the game of basketball, I present to you, Straight from the Daily Planet. Originally, SFDP was the name of a column I run in a university newspaper which I edit, now it will be the soapbox from which I speak to the world.
I’ve written for a number of websites, including Ryan McNeill’s HoopsAddict.com, About.com and the now defunct FacetiousPanda.com. All of which are lovely sites that you should read every single day.
