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Ailene Voisin: Let's hand it to Ostertag for his effort
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Columnist
Published 2:15 am PST Saturday, November 6, 2004
HOUSTON - Greg Ostertag swears there are no sexy details to expose. There was only the darkness of night, the footstool near the bed, that one clumsy move, and the loud "pop" as his right hand braced his fall.
"Dumb," Ostertag recalled Friday, with a sheepish grin. "The dumbest thing of all is that I knew the footstool was there. I just couldn't get out of the way."
So, OK, Tiny Dancer he is not. But the Kings didn't acquire the former Utah Jazz center for his nimble footwork, his nifty passes, his clever ball fakes in the low post. The backup plan was to go with the defense.
In fact, the only similarity between Ostertag and the departed Vlade Divac is that both speak with a foreign accent. (Ostertag was born in that reddest of red states, Texas).
And as with any relocation, adjustments are required. The culture and cuisine differ. The uniform feels strange. The voices of teammates and coaches are no longer familiar; after nine years of playing for Jerry Sloan, who routinely exercised his vocal chords within close proximity of Ostertag's eardrums, Rick Adelman's growls sound like gentle whispers.
Yet while Ostertag speaks fondly of his seasons and successes with the Jazz, including eight years watching John Stockton and Karl Malone conduct clinics on the pick-and-roll, the Kings' most significant offseason acquisition welcomed the change of environment. He wanted to be wanted. He wanted to be needed.
Having flirted with at least three other teams, including the Jazz, as a free agent, he anticipated a more compatible co-dependency with the Kings.
"Greg gives us a big body that can help us defensively," vice president of basketball operations Geoff Petrie said recently. "We think he can really improve us in areas that we have been deficient."
First impressions notwithstanding - and Ostertag has been remarkably good-natured about his slip-and-fall - the 10th-year pro has been working diligently to improve his conditioning, and to an even greater extent, reclaim the full use of his still-bandaged right hand. He knows the score. He has seen the painful box scores in Dallas and San Antonio.
To counter a trend that has been troubling since early preseason, the Kings desperately need better pressure on the ball and a more aggressive defensive posture on the interior. And Ostertag, a wide, softly muscled 7-foot-2, 280-pounder whose deceptive wingspan and anticipation have enabled him to become one of the league's more proficient shotblockers (1.85 blocks in 20.9 minutes), is being heavily counted on to balance an offense-oriented frontline.
The only question surrounding Petrie's latest move is not whether Ostertag will contribute - he in fact fits the profile of the productive role player - but how he will survive without Sloan barking at him on a daily basis?
The Delta Center just won't be the same without at least one snapshot of the combative coach screaming at his maligned center, and with few exceptions, with Ostertag waving his arms and pleading his case, getting benched anyway, yet coming back the next day for more. Say this for No. 00 - the man can take a verbal hit.
"I don't know," Ostertag replies, candidly, "because I've never played for anyone else. I must be the only player in the gym who has played (nine years) for the same coach. Off the court Jerry and I are good friends, though on the court we had our differences. When things weren't going well, I always knew where he was going to go."
In many respects, Ostertag is another of the league's gentle giants, those 7-footers who tantalize with their massive physiques and considerable skills, yet who sometimes seem entrapped by oversized bodies and outsized expectations. Remember, this is the same individual who donated a kidney to his sister, Amy, in 2002, and who during this past offseason traveled to Illinois and was seen tightly hugging a sobbing Sloan during the funeral of his former coach's late wife, Bobbie.
"Jerry's a good guy," said Ostertag softly. "We still talk."
Nonetheless, he seems genuinely excited, if also immensely disappointed and embarrassed about the fractured hand, which though he insists otherwise, appears to impede his grip on the ball. "I know we've had a slow start, and I've had a slow start," said Ostertag, "but I really don't think you're going to see us playing like this for a long time. I really don't."
Ailene Voisin: Let's hand it to Ostertag for his effort
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Columnist
Published 2:15 am PST Saturday, November 6, 2004
HOUSTON - Greg Ostertag swears there are no sexy details to expose. There was only the darkness of night, the footstool near the bed, that one clumsy move, and the loud "pop" as his right hand braced his fall.
"Dumb," Ostertag recalled Friday, with a sheepish grin. "The dumbest thing of all is that I knew the footstool was there. I just couldn't get out of the way."
So, OK, Tiny Dancer he is not. But the Kings didn't acquire the former Utah Jazz center for his nimble footwork, his nifty passes, his clever ball fakes in the low post. The backup plan was to go with the defense.
In fact, the only similarity between Ostertag and the departed Vlade Divac is that both speak with a foreign accent. (Ostertag was born in that reddest of red states, Texas).
And as with any relocation, adjustments are required. The culture and cuisine differ. The uniform feels strange. The voices of teammates and coaches are no longer familiar; after nine years of playing for Jerry Sloan, who routinely exercised his vocal chords within close proximity of Ostertag's eardrums, Rick Adelman's growls sound like gentle whispers.
Yet while Ostertag speaks fondly of his seasons and successes with the Jazz, including eight years watching John Stockton and Karl Malone conduct clinics on the pick-and-roll, the Kings' most significant offseason acquisition welcomed the change of environment. He wanted to be wanted. He wanted to be needed.
Having flirted with at least three other teams, including the Jazz, as a free agent, he anticipated a more compatible co-dependency with the Kings.
"Greg gives us a big body that can help us defensively," vice president of basketball operations Geoff Petrie said recently. "We think he can really improve us in areas that we have been deficient."
First impressions notwithstanding - and Ostertag has been remarkably good-natured about his slip-and-fall - the 10th-year pro has been working diligently to improve his conditioning, and to an even greater extent, reclaim the full use of his still-bandaged right hand. He knows the score. He has seen the painful box scores in Dallas and San Antonio.
To counter a trend that has been troubling since early preseason, the Kings desperately need better pressure on the ball and a more aggressive defensive posture on the interior. And Ostertag, a wide, softly muscled 7-foot-2, 280-pounder whose deceptive wingspan and anticipation have enabled him to become one of the league's more proficient shotblockers (1.85 blocks in 20.9 minutes), is being heavily counted on to balance an offense-oriented frontline.
The only question surrounding Petrie's latest move is not whether Ostertag will contribute - he in fact fits the profile of the productive role player - but how he will survive without Sloan barking at him on a daily basis?
The Delta Center just won't be the same without at least one snapshot of the combative coach screaming at his maligned center, and with few exceptions, with Ostertag waving his arms and pleading his case, getting benched anyway, yet coming back the next day for more. Say this for No. 00 - the man can take a verbal hit.
"I don't know," Ostertag replies, candidly, "because I've never played for anyone else. I must be the only player in the gym who has played (nine years) for the same coach. Off the court Jerry and I are good friends, though on the court we had our differences. When things weren't going well, I always knew where he was going to go."
In many respects, Ostertag is another of the league's gentle giants, those 7-footers who tantalize with their massive physiques and considerable skills, yet who sometimes seem entrapped by oversized bodies and outsized expectations. Remember, this is the same individual who donated a kidney to his sister, Amy, in 2002, and who during this past offseason traveled to Illinois and was seen tightly hugging a sobbing Sloan during the funeral of his former coach's late wife, Bobbie.
"Jerry's a good guy," said Ostertag softly. "We still talk."
Nonetheless, he seems genuinely excited, if also immensely disappointed and embarrassed about the fractured hand, which though he insists otherwise, appears to impede his grip on the ball. "I know we've had a slow start, and I've had a slow start," said Ostertag, "but I really don't think you're going to see us playing like this for a long time. I really don't."
