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Ailene Voisin: Unlike Webber, McDyess sacrifices
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PDT Thursday, June 16, 2005
AUBURN HILLS, Mich. - The old Antonio McDyess would have just dunked in your face. He would have utilized the free-throw line as a launching pad, his 6-foot-9 frame elevating, seemingly levitating, for spectacular dunks and one-stride bursts that left defenders flat-footed.
But that was also the healthy McDyess, not this creaky Detroit Pistons model.
Two knee injuries. Three knee surgeries. Countless hours of pain.
As is so common with players who suffer knee injuries, his career has been dramatically altered, his visions of superstardom shattered by physical limitations and a chronic diet of lousy luck. His leaps and bounds are selectively few.
Yet here he is in the middle of the NBA Finals, his teammates having sprinted into this best-of-seven championship series with a victory Tuesday night, pursuing the only goal that matters: the ring.
"I always kind of look back and say, 'What if I hadn't gotten hurt?' " McDyess told reporters after Wednesday's practice at the Palace of Auburn Hills, "but with everything that's happened, with three knee surgeries, I would have said that this never would have happened."
The Pistons will never be his team. His minutes will be limited and his field-goal opportunities minimal. But in contrast to another gifted forward - a once explosive, healthy, multidimensional Chris Webber, presently hampered by debilitating knee ailments - he is content just to be standing on two legs, and having eased into a supporting role on one of the league's elite teams, to be playing in only the second postseason of his career.
McDyess does what Webber would not.
McDyess sacrifices, then picks his spots and contributes.
In 19 invaluable minutes against the San Antonio Spurs on Tuesday, for instance, in the game that precluded a sweep, the nine-year veteran provided a brief, but prodigious boost off the bench.
He swiped rebounds, blocked shots, scored 12 points mostly on midrange jumpers and turnarounds. He also produced one explosive maneuver - a combination of pump fakes, step-through and bank shot - that left Spurs coach Gregg Popovich reminiscing about the way he was.
"That's the Antonio McDyess we all remember," offered Popovich on Wednesday.
But it's been what? Almost five years since the former Alabama star exploded for the rebound basket that rescued the U.S. Olympic team in the 2000 semifinals in Sydney? Three years since he tore his patella tendon? Another 16 months since he heard the devastating "pop" as the same kneecap burst during his preseason debut with the New York Knicks?
As he so often has since this series began, McDyess, 30, relived the entire frustrating ordeal again, related how he repeatedly begged his physical therapist to cut him loose, asked his agent to have him waived, lay in bed on many nights last season, wide-eyed, wondering whether his career was finished. Cried when the Pistons outlasted the Miami Heat and advanced to the championship series. Cried, but remained grounded.
In the old days he would have jumped out of the building.
These days the landing would be simply be too painful.
"It's not easy," he explained, adding that he can no longer "run as fast, jump as high, move as quick. (But) when you can't do the things you normally do, and you know you gave your all, even after surgery, and you can't do more, you can't do anything but accept your role, and that's coming off the bench. I don't have a problem with it, because it seems like to me, when I'm in the game, I'm the go-to guy, so I feel like a starter."
For the better part of six seasons, the Quitman, Miss., native, who said his high school class consisted of a whopping 119 students, was a fixture in starting lineups in Denver (1995-97), Phoenix (1997-98) and Denver again (1998-2001).
His was the classic tale of the smalltown star who spoke openly of remaining humble while achieving individual goals that once were only imagined: All-Star and all-league selection; member of the gold-medal-winning 2000 Olympic squad; coveted free-agent status.
This also was a player whose fundamentals were enhanced by his tireless work ethic; he may have played fast and furious, but he was always slow to leave the practice floor.
Before the injuries, he had improved his jumper and his ballhandling. Since the injuries - after trades and signings and subsequent stops in New York, Phoenix and, finally, Detroit - he has relied more on intellect than instinct. He insists that he had no choice, but of course he did, especially after Pistons GM Joe Dumars signed him to a four-year, $24 million free-agent contract last summer.
He could have taken the money and moaned. He could have become disruptive, could have dominated the ball, could have complained about his reduced responsibilities.
But that isn't McDyess, never was McDyess, which is why his cheering section during these Finals is crammed with former coaches and teammates. This is one of the league's good guys. Never mind that he no longer jumps as high, runs as fast, score as many points.
"The old McDyess was taking the ball to the goal, trying to jump over you, shoot every shot," he said. "Now I know when not to jump. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten hurt if I was this Antonio ... "
Asked who would win a pickup game between the old and the new Antonio, he laughed. "Probably the old Antonio," he said.
http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/story/13073770p-13918992c.html
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PDT Thursday, June 16, 2005
AUBURN HILLS, Mich. - The old Antonio McDyess would have just dunked in your face. He would have utilized the free-throw line as a launching pad, his 6-foot-9 frame elevating, seemingly levitating, for spectacular dunks and one-stride bursts that left defenders flat-footed.
But that was also the healthy McDyess, not this creaky Detroit Pistons model.
Two knee injuries. Three knee surgeries. Countless hours of pain.
As is so common with players who suffer knee injuries, his career has been dramatically altered, his visions of superstardom shattered by physical limitations and a chronic diet of lousy luck. His leaps and bounds are selectively few.
Yet here he is in the middle of the NBA Finals, his teammates having sprinted into this best-of-seven championship series with a victory Tuesday night, pursuing the only goal that matters: the ring.
"I always kind of look back and say, 'What if I hadn't gotten hurt?' " McDyess told reporters after Wednesday's practice at the Palace of Auburn Hills, "but with everything that's happened, with three knee surgeries, I would have said that this never would have happened."
The Pistons will never be his team. His minutes will be limited and his field-goal opportunities minimal. But in contrast to another gifted forward - a once explosive, healthy, multidimensional Chris Webber, presently hampered by debilitating knee ailments - he is content just to be standing on two legs, and having eased into a supporting role on one of the league's elite teams, to be playing in only the second postseason of his career.
McDyess does what Webber would not.
McDyess sacrifices, then picks his spots and contributes.
In 19 invaluable minutes against the San Antonio Spurs on Tuesday, for instance, in the game that precluded a sweep, the nine-year veteran provided a brief, but prodigious boost off the bench.
He swiped rebounds, blocked shots, scored 12 points mostly on midrange jumpers and turnarounds. He also produced one explosive maneuver - a combination of pump fakes, step-through and bank shot - that left Spurs coach Gregg Popovich reminiscing about the way he was.
"That's the Antonio McDyess we all remember," offered Popovich on Wednesday.
But it's been what? Almost five years since the former Alabama star exploded for the rebound basket that rescued the U.S. Olympic team in the 2000 semifinals in Sydney? Three years since he tore his patella tendon? Another 16 months since he heard the devastating "pop" as the same kneecap burst during his preseason debut with the New York Knicks?
As he so often has since this series began, McDyess, 30, relived the entire frustrating ordeal again, related how he repeatedly begged his physical therapist to cut him loose, asked his agent to have him waived, lay in bed on many nights last season, wide-eyed, wondering whether his career was finished. Cried when the Pistons outlasted the Miami Heat and advanced to the championship series. Cried, but remained grounded.
In the old days he would have jumped out of the building.
These days the landing would be simply be too painful.
"It's not easy," he explained, adding that he can no longer "run as fast, jump as high, move as quick. (But) when you can't do the things you normally do, and you know you gave your all, even after surgery, and you can't do more, you can't do anything but accept your role, and that's coming off the bench. I don't have a problem with it, because it seems like to me, when I'm in the game, I'm the go-to guy, so I feel like a starter."
For the better part of six seasons, the Quitman, Miss., native, who said his high school class consisted of a whopping 119 students, was a fixture in starting lineups in Denver (1995-97), Phoenix (1997-98) and Denver again (1998-2001).
His was the classic tale of the smalltown star who spoke openly of remaining humble while achieving individual goals that once were only imagined: All-Star and all-league selection; member of the gold-medal-winning 2000 Olympic squad; coveted free-agent status.
This also was a player whose fundamentals were enhanced by his tireless work ethic; he may have played fast and furious, but he was always slow to leave the practice floor.
Before the injuries, he had improved his jumper and his ballhandling. Since the injuries - after trades and signings and subsequent stops in New York, Phoenix and, finally, Detroit - he has relied more on intellect than instinct. He insists that he had no choice, but of course he did, especially after Pistons GM Joe Dumars signed him to a four-year, $24 million free-agent contract last summer.
He could have taken the money and moaned. He could have become disruptive, could have dominated the ball, could have complained about his reduced responsibilities.
But that isn't McDyess, never was McDyess, which is why his cheering section during these Finals is crammed with former coaches and teammates. This is one of the league's good guys. Never mind that he no longer jumps as high, runs as fast, score as many points.
"The old McDyess was taking the ball to the goal, trying to jump over you, shoot every shot," he said. "Now I know when not to jump. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten hurt if I was this Antonio ... "
Asked who would win a pickup game between the old and the new Antonio, he laughed. "Probably the old Antonio," he said.
http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/story/13073770p-13918992c.html
