http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/story/14249804p-15066698c.html
One makes name; other makes merry
It seems Adelman isn't sweating small stuff - or much at all, really
By Mark Kreidler -- Bee Staff Writer
Published 2:15 am PDT Sunday, April 30, 2006
So, anyway: Whatever happened to the tortured-artist effect and Rick Adelman?
Whatever happened to Adelman suffering for his wins and going First-Team All-Bile after his losses? That's the way it has been for nigh on eight years. Around Sacramento, they've grown accustomed to his playoff face - and it's generally a pained frown.
Adelman suffers. Oh, heavens, the man suffers. He accepts his team's victories as little more than bread enough to live another day, never buoyed by any single triumph. His body language after a defeat is usually that of a person prepared to commence melting through the floorboard of his car on the drive home.
So who is this man suddenly laughing on the Kings' sideline and spontaneously calling radio shows to chat? Who was the fellow pumping his fists so wildly after that pulsating Game 3 finish Friday night, then serenely embracing his family afterward?
Let's put the situation another way: There are 16 coaches who took teams into the NBA's postseason. Exactly one of them is on the chopping block, with an expiring contract and an ownership group that tried to toss him overboard a year ago.
Why is this man smiling?
"I get it. People are worried about whether I'm worried about my job status," Adelman said. "But that's not it. That's the furthest thing from my mind.
"It's just that I like this team. We've come such a long ways. I feel real comfortable with who we have and what we can do. I guess that's what it is."
A funny thing happened on the road to oblivion: Rick Adelman started having fun again.
Who knows? He might even live to tell about it.
From the point of the Ron Artest trade in January to today, Adelman has coached a team - and a franchise - to a sort of second life as a going concern. It isn't like the first time around, not that anything ever could be. There is no Chris Webber telegenic smile, no Vlade Divac passing wizardry nor Jason Williams' compellingly erratic red-line approach to basketball.
No, this one speaks to a deeper satisfaction. That first incarnation of winning in Sacramento, also coached by Adelman, was unexpected, and it happened so fast, and it was instantly beloved. This one was a grinding process, through multiple personnel switches and losing, through the difficult trades of Webber and Peja Stojakovic, through grumbling about the job Adelman was doing and his own realization that the Maloof family was, in fact, allowing the days on his contract to count down to zero.
This one rescued a team that had been left on the mountainside to fend for itself. And Adelman's accomplishment - getting a roster of disparate talent to play together and turn around a season, to say nothing of learning everybody's name in time for the next game - ultimately could stand as one of his career's finest efforts.
Several of those who see Adelman every day say the result has been a more relaxed and enjoyable coach, one who seems outwardly at peace with the notion that a change could be in his future.
"But I don't think his status is uncertain - not as far as I'm concerned," said Pete Carril, the only current assistant who has been with the Kings for Adelman's full eight-year tenure.
"Everybody who likes him thinks he's doing very good, and those who don't like him think he's not any good. Which one is right? Look at the record."
By record, the idea of replacing Adelman becomes a difficult case. The coach's eight seasons in Sacramento have produced eight consecutive playoff appearances, five seasons of 50 or more victories and a Western Conference finals appearance.
Of course, owners almost never go by that kind of stuff. Owners tend to be emotional creatures, and in the case of Joe and Gavin Maloof, there's absolutely no argument. Anyone who has seen Gavin bolt out of his courtside seat at a crucial moment to scream at Adelman to call a timeout - or break into an impromptu dance/cheerleading session, as the owner did after Kevin Martin's acrobatic layup fell through as time expired Friday night - knows that.
Joe Maloof said last week that no discussions on Adelman's future would occur until after the playoffs. But Adelman suddenly holds several cards.
He has a playoff team young enough to be competitive for a few years. He has a strong ally in Geoff Petrie, the team's president of basketball operations. He has a roster that finished the regular season 26-14 after the Artest trade, and he has in Artest a key player who has responded to Adelman's style of coaching.
"I said way back when that whether or not we got to the playoffs, this team has a chance - with the young players we have and everything else - to keep moving forward and not go backward," Adelman said. "And a series like this, if we can keep playing well, is going to validate that."
And then some. Said one member of the Kings' staff: "I think the reason Rick is more relaxed is that he knows in a couple of weeks he'll be in the driver's seat."
Since last summer, Adelman has maintained any decision on his future would be his as much as anybody else's. Though he prefers to remain on the West Coast, Adelman might find he has several offers around the NBA to consider.
In the meantime, he has learned to embrace the present like no Adelman of recent vintage. He jokes with reporters, sounds openly optimistic about his young core of talent. He savors the good stuff and has been unusually resilient while wading through the dreck.
Last week, Adelman heard a local radio program discussing the key sequence of Game 2: A Spurs possession on which the Kings elected not to commit a foul, thus forcing the Spurs to score on their own. Mike Bibby subsequently lost track of San Antonio's Brent Barry, who found himself open for the bouncing three-point shot that forced overtime and led to a crushing defeat for the Kings.
To the surprise of the show's host, Kings announcer Grant Napear, the next call he received - unsolicited - was from Adelman.
"He says, 'Listen, I know this is one of the toughest losses we've ever had here. It's in my top five of losses. I need to explain to the fans why we didn't foul,' " Napear said. "And he did that."
That's unusual for Adelman?
"Out of character, right," Napear said. "But he is very relaxed."
Carril said Adelman is reaping the emotional benefit of knowing he's coaching a team playing well, regardless of the future stakes. Adelman acknowledges that much; with the exception of the Game 1 blowout loss to the Spurs, the Kings generally have played solid basketball for weeks. As difficult as Game 2 was to digest, Adelman probably got over it faster than the fans around him - and that, to those who know him best, is a departure.
Friday night, after meeting the media in the wake of the Kings' pulsating last-second victory, Adelman took a moment to embrace his wife, Mary Kay, and several of the family's six children. When someone later told him Artest had said the team could savor the victory for only 10 minutes before turning to today's Game 4, Adelman chuckled.
"Tell Ron to take 10 minutes," the coach replied with a smile. "I'm gonna take a couple of hours here."
Rick Adelman, enjoying himself in the middle of the playoffs? It's a world gone mad.
About the writer: The Bee's Mark Kreidler can be reached at (916) 321-1149 ormkreidler@sacbee.com.
One makes name; other makes merry
It seems Adelman isn't sweating small stuff - or much at all, really
By Mark Kreidler -- Bee Staff Writer
Published 2:15 am PDT Sunday, April 30, 2006
So, anyway: Whatever happened to the tortured-artist effect and Rick Adelman?
Whatever happened to Adelman suffering for his wins and going First-Team All-Bile after his losses? That's the way it has been for nigh on eight years. Around Sacramento, they've grown accustomed to his playoff face - and it's generally a pained frown.
Adelman suffers. Oh, heavens, the man suffers. He accepts his team's victories as little more than bread enough to live another day, never buoyed by any single triumph. His body language after a defeat is usually that of a person prepared to commence melting through the floorboard of his car on the drive home.
So who is this man suddenly laughing on the Kings' sideline and spontaneously calling radio shows to chat? Who was the fellow pumping his fists so wildly after that pulsating Game 3 finish Friday night, then serenely embracing his family afterward?
Let's put the situation another way: There are 16 coaches who took teams into the NBA's postseason. Exactly one of them is on the chopping block, with an expiring contract and an ownership group that tried to toss him overboard a year ago.
Why is this man smiling?
"I get it. People are worried about whether I'm worried about my job status," Adelman said. "But that's not it. That's the furthest thing from my mind.
"It's just that I like this team. We've come such a long ways. I feel real comfortable with who we have and what we can do. I guess that's what it is."
A funny thing happened on the road to oblivion: Rick Adelman started having fun again.
Who knows? He might even live to tell about it.
From the point of the Ron Artest trade in January to today, Adelman has coached a team - and a franchise - to a sort of second life as a going concern. It isn't like the first time around, not that anything ever could be. There is no Chris Webber telegenic smile, no Vlade Divac passing wizardry nor Jason Williams' compellingly erratic red-line approach to basketball.
No, this one speaks to a deeper satisfaction. That first incarnation of winning in Sacramento, also coached by Adelman, was unexpected, and it happened so fast, and it was instantly beloved. This one was a grinding process, through multiple personnel switches and losing, through the difficult trades of Webber and Peja Stojakovic, through grumbling about the job Adelman was doing and his own realization that the Maloof family was, in fact, allowing the days on his contract to count down to zero.
This one rescued a team that had been left on the mountainside to fend for itself. And Adelman's accomplishment - getting a roster of disparate talent to play together and turn around a season, to say nothing of learning everybody's name in time for the next game - ultimately could stand as one of his career's finest efforts.
Several of those who see Adelman every day say the result has been a more relaxed and enjoyable coach, one who seems outwardly at peace with the notion that a change could be in his future.
"But I don't think his status is uncertain - not as far as I'm concerned," said Pete Carril, the only current assistant who has been with the Kings for Adelman's full eight-year tenure.
"Everybody who likes him thinks he's doing very good, and those who don't like him think he's not any good. Which one is right? Look at the record."
By record, the idea of replacing Adelman becomes a difficult case. The coach's eight seasons in Sacramento have produced eight consecutive playoff appearances, five seasons of 50 or more victories and a Western Conference finals appearance.
Of course, owners almost never go by that kind of stuff. Owners tend to be emotional creatures, and in the case of Joe and Gavin Maloof, there's absolutely no argument. Anyone who has seen Gavin bolt out of his courtside seat at a crucial moment to scream at Adelman to call a timeout - or break into an impromptu dance/cheerleading session, as the owner did after Kevin Martin's acrobatic layup fell through as time expired Friday night - knows that.
Joe Maloof said last week that no discussions on Adelman's future would occur until after the playoffs. But Adelman suddenly holds several cards.
He has a playoff team young enough to be competitive for a few years. He has a strong ally in Geoff Petrie, the team's president of basketball operations. He has a roster that finished the regular season 26-14 after the Artest trade, and he has in Artest a key player who has responded to Adelman's style of coaching.
"I said way back when that whether or not we got to the playoffs, this team has a chance - with the young players we have and everything else - to keep moving forward and not go backward," Adelman said. "And a series like this, if we can keep playing well, is going to validate that."
And then some. Said one member of the Kings' staff: "I think the reason Rick is more relaxed is that he knows in a couple of weeks he'll be in the driver's seat."
Since last summer, Adelman has maintained any decision on his future would be his as much as anybody else's. Though he prefers to remain on the West Coast, Adelman might find he has several offers around the NBA to consider.
In the meantime, he has learned to embrace the present like no Adelman of recent vintage. He jokes with reporters, sounds openly optimistic about his young core of talent. He savors the good stuff and has been unusually resilient while wading through the dreck.
Last week, Adelman heard a local radio program discussing the key sequence of Game 2: A Spurs possession on which the Kings elected not to commit a foul, thus forcing the Spurs to score on their own. Mike Bibby subsequently lost track of San Antonio's Brent Barry, who found himself open for the bouncing three-point shot that forced overtime and led to a crushing defeat for the Kings.
To the surprise of the show's host, Kings announcer Grant Napear, the next call he received - unsolicited - was from Adelman.
"He says, 'Listen, I know this is one of the toughest losses we've ever had here. It's in my top five of losses. I need to explain to the fans why we didn't foul,' " Napear said. "And he did that."
That's unusual for Adelman?
"Out of character, right," Napear said. "But he is very relaxed."
Carril said Adelman is reaping the emotional benefit of knowing he's coaching a team playing well, regardless of the future stakes. Adelman acknowledges that much; with the exception of the Game 1 blowout loss to the Spurs, the Kings generally have played solid basketball for weeks. As difficult as Game 2 was to digest, Adelman probably got over it faster than the fans around him - and that, to those who know him best, is a departure.
Friday night, after meeting the media in the wake of the Kings' pulsating last-second victory, Adelman took a moment to embrace his wife, Mary Kay, and several of the family's six children. When someone later told him Artest had said the team could savor the victory for only 10 minutes before turning to today's Game 4, Adelman chuckled.
"Tell Ron to take 10 minutes," the coach replied with a smile. "I'm gonna take a couple of hours here."
Rick Adelman, enjoying himself in the middle of the playoffs? It's a world gone mad.
About the writer: The Bee's Mark Kreidler can be reached at (916) 321-1149 ormkreidler@sacbee.com.
