http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/story/13102181p-13946930c.html
Ailene Voisin: Game 5 adds the spice, making this series nice
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PDT Tuesday, June 21, 2005
SAN ANTONIO - Tim Duncan threatened to break a smile, actually ripped off a few lines. He was enlightening and entertaining, spontaneous and expansive, insightful and seemingly at ease in his surroundings.
Swept up by the late-night theatrics, by Robert Horry's latest three-point moment, Duncan deviated from his script - say as little as possible and nothing remotely noteworthy - and added an entirely new dimension to the public face of his game.
A personality.
A sense of humor.
A hint that finally, perhaps, the NBA's best all-around player is ready to lead the league on the court and on the stage.
For the first time in a national setting, Duncan, who is universally labeled as b-o-r-i-n-g, his San Antonio Spurs unfairly tainted by association, coughed something up. He leaned into the microphone late Sunday and tormented the absent Horry,who absolutely abhors the nickname "Big Shot Bob."
"It's Bobby Horry!" a playful, wide-eyed Duncan exclaimed, following an absolutely thrilling Game 5. "He's Big Shot Bob! ... I'll tell you the deal with Rob ... He shows up sometimes, and then you put him in the fourth quarter in a big game, whether it be the regular season or the playoffs, and he's like, 'OK, it's time to play now.' And he just turns it on."
So who turned Duncan on?
The Big Fundamental was ... funny.
Consistent with this best-of-seven series, which is getting a late start in more than one respect, the Spurs' superstar left his audience anticipating an encore. Let's face it. Shaq can't carry the show forever. This NBA Finals might not be a ratings winner, but considering the league's lousy start - the brawl in the Palace, the inordinate number of serious injuries to elite players, labor woes that rekindled fears of another lockout - the Detroit Pistons and the Spurs, with Duncan among them, have been a revelation. Had the first four games resembled that thrilling Game 5, this series would have been a chat-room classic. It has throwback slapped all over it, with plenty of verbal sparring, feisty cut men (Larry Brown and Gregg Popovich) in the opposing corners and no punches thrown.
In a development that months ago would have been unfathomable, the league in these troubled times is being aided by a most improbable tandem: The Pistons, who, though long among the most admired franchises, still hosted the now-famous brawl, and the Spurs, routinely characterized as the club with the stoic superstar who lacks the appeal of Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Michael Jordan or Charles Barkley - a not insignificant factor in today's celebrity-obsessed culture. Keep in mind that though the superstars of the 1980s and early 1990s elevated the game, their dynamic personalities drove the league.
Fans tuned in to watch and to listen, the banter an essential part of the production. What did Magic really think of Bird? Was Pat Riley or Chuck Daly the slickest dresser? Where were you when Magic's sweeping hook shot doomed the Boston Celtics in 1987? When Julius Erving glided along the baseline at the Forum? When Bird stole the ball?
For stars to be bankable, they have to be likeable.
For stars to be likeable, they have to be available, increasingly like these Spurs, and especially these Pistons.
By contrast, too many front-office executives allow their young stars to hide behind cell phones or under the training table, thereby ignoring the benefits of an aggressive sales pitch and the need to simultaneously immerse themselves within their respective communities. Hours before the Spurs snatched that 3-2 series advantage, NBA Commissioner David Stern, in fact, met informally with journalists to discuss player/coach access and accommodation. The executive who created the monster was asking how to tame the beast, inquiring about which franchises follow the league-mandated rules (Phoenix, Seattle, Milwaukee, Indiana and Detroit receive consistently high marks) and which ones ignore the guidelines, and by extension, disrespect the fans.
But what Stern really was asking was this: What is the most effective means of bridging the disconnect that exists between the average Joe and the NBA star? It's not enough to watch Duncan convert those precise, textbook bank shots. Fans want to experience a not-so-distant relationship with Bruce Bowen, Chauncey Billups, Antonio McDyess, Manu Ginobili, and, heck, even Big Shot Bob. Fans want to know the participants, or at least, think they do.
No, if the NBA is all about trends, Pistons-Spurs established one that should be followed.
About the writer: Reach Ailene Voisin at (916) 321-1208 or avoisin@sacbee.com.
Ailene Voisin: Game 5 adds the spice, making this series nice
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PDT Tuesday, June 21, 2005
SAN ANTONIO - Tim Duncan threatened to break a smile, actually ripped off a few lines. He was enlightening and entertaining, spontaneous and expansive, insightful and seemingly at ease in his surroundings.
Swept up by the late-night theatrics, by Robert Horry's latest three-point moment, Duncan deviated from his script - say as little as possible and nothing remotely noteworthy - and added an entirely new dimension to the public face of his game.
A personality.
A sense of humor.
A hint that finally, perhaps, the NBA's best all-around player is ready to lead the league on the court and on the stage.
For the first time in a national setting, Duncan, who is universally labeled as b-o-r-i-n-g, his San Antonio Spurs unfairly tainted by association, coughed something up. He leaned into the microphone late Sunday and tormented the absent Horry,who absolutely abhors the nickname "Big Shot Bob."
"It's Bobby Horry!" a playful, wide-eyed Duncan exclaimed, following an absolutely thrilling Game 5. "He's Big Shot Bob! ... I'll tell you the deal with Rob ... He shows up sometimes, and then you put him in the fourth quarter in a big game, whether it be the regular season or the playoffs, and he's like, 'OK, it's time to play now.' And he just turns it on."
So who turned Duncan on?
The Big Fundamental was ... funny.
Consistent with this best-of-seven series, which is getting a late start in more than one respect, the Spurs' superstar left his audience anticipating an encore. Let's face it. Shaq can't carry the show forever. This NBA Finals might not be a ratings winner, but considering the league's lousy start - the brawl in the Palace, the inordinate number of serious injuries to elite players, labor woes that rekindled fears of another lockout - the Detroit Pistons and the Spurs, with Duncan among them, have been a revelation. Had the first four games resembled that thrilling Game 5, this series would have been a chat-room classic. It has throwback slapped all over it, with plenty of verbal sparring, feisty cut men (Larry Brown and Gregg Popovich) in the opposing corners and no punches thrown.
In a development that months ago would have been unfathomable, the league in these troubled times is being aided by a most improbable tandem: The Pistons, who, though long among the most admired franchises, still hosted the now-famous brawl, and the Spurs, routinely characterized as the club with the stoic superstar who lacks the appeal of Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Michael Jordan or Charles Barkley - a not insignificant factor in today's celebrity-obsessed culture. Keep in mind that though the superstars of the 1980s and early 1990s elevated the game, their dynamic personalities drove the league.
Fans tuned in to watch and to listen, the banter an essential part of the production. What did Magic really think of Bird? Was Pat Riley or Chuck Daly the slickest dresser? Where were you when Magic's sweeping hook shot doomed the Boston Celtics in 1987? When Julius Erving glided along the baseline at the Forum? When Bird stole the ball?
For stars to be bankable, they have to be likeable.
For stars to be likeable, they have to be available, increasingly like these Spurs, and especially these Pistons.
By contrast, too many front-office executives allow their young stars to hide behind cell phones or under the training table, thereby ignoring the benefits of an aggressive sales pitch and the need to simultaneously immerse themselves within their respective communities. Hours before the Spurs snatched that 3-2 series advantage, NBA Commissioner David Stern, in fact, met informally with journalists to discuss player/coach access and accommodation. The executive who created the monster was asking how to tame the beast, inquiring about which franchises follow the league-mandated rules (Phoenix, Seattle, Milwaukee, Indiana and Detroit receive consistently high marks) and which ones ignore the guidelines, and by extension, disrespect the fans.
But what Stern really was asking was this: What is the most effective means of bridging the disconnect that exists between the average Joe and the NBA star? It's not enough to watch Duncan convert those precise, textbook bank shots. Fans want to experience a not-so-distant relationship with Bruce Bowen, Chauncey Billups, Antonio McDyess, Manu Ginobili, and, heck, even Big Shot Bob. Fans want to know the participants, or at least, think they do.
No, if the NBA is all about trends, Pistons-Spurs established one that should be followed.
About the writer: Reach Ailene Voisin at (916) 321-1208 or avoisin@sacbee.com.
