IF a writer can’t get an easily checkable, exceptionally vital fact correct in a prickly news story rampant with purportedly contentious conversation between a coach and his players and his bosses, why should we accept anything of import as being accurate?
A couple days ago, a Tacoma (Wash.) News Tribune byline alleged coach Nate McMillan is fuming at having to play an up tempo style. Fuming, despite the fact his Sonics are 9-8 minus injured All-Star Ray Allen and 6-9 Nick Collison (12th pick in last June’s draft), and despite the post-traumatic effect on Rashard Lewis following his brother’s death and the team’s 26th ranking in experience.
McMillan also is supposedly bent out of shape because his white-collar roster conflicts with his hardcore approach to the game and recently ranted after an ugly road loss in Utah: “Forget the CEO. Forget the general manager. From now on, we are doing things my way. “
Next day, we’re led to believe, Sonic CEO Wally Walker and GM Rick Sund hastily summoned McMillan for a “clear the air” meeting to try to regain some semblance of unification. According to the writer, McMillan told his superiors, “you have given me a roster full of cupcakes, finesse players and offensive-minded players.”
Sounds like an exhaustively fed-up, hamstrung coach about to take leave of his senses and his situation. The writer also reputed there is a chasm so expansive between McMillan and management, if the Sonics begin to falter as they sail into the teeth of their schedule, then someone probably will leave the team. And that someone most likely is McMillan.
We’re then notified McMillan has but one year left on his contract, “at his option,” and, he could simply choose to walk away, say, to North Carolina where the expansionist Bobcats reside.
“Was there a meeting? Yes. But it was nothing out of the ordinary,” Sund said yesterday in a phone interview. “Our owner calls it every six weeks or so to go over where we are, if we like the direction we’re headed, who we like and don’t like. This was your typical get-together.
“Would we like the team to be tougher? Yes. That’s why we drafted Collison, to complement our shooters. He goes hard to the boards [20 rebounds in an tournament game last season] and does a lot of dirty work. It’s no revelation we’re a finesse team. We know who we are and we’re doing damn well considering the adversity we’ve faced. If you had told me before the season we’d start 9-8, I would’ve said you were nuts. Particularly after everything that’s transpired.”
Sund promised I wouldn’t get burned three weeks or three months from now by branding the News Tribune “expose” much ado about nothing. He vows the story is factually inexact and completely out of proportion to reality.
“I don’t know what Nate says to the players behind closed doors,” said Sund, who learned from Jerry West and Wayne Embry not to invade the domain of the coach. “It’s his locker room; he can say anything he wants to get their attention and maintain control.
“But I do know what’s said in our meetings and I’ve never heard Nate use the term ‘cupcakes.’ The thing that worries me is that Nate could lose the players if they believe it’s true.”
What about McMillan’s contract? Does he own an escape clause at the end of this season, as reported?
“That, too, is totally false,” Sund underlined. “When I signed with Seattle a couple years ago, I insisted on having the same number of years as Nate, no more, no less. I wanted him to know we’re in this together. And we’re both under contract for one more season after this.”
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Bob Delaney is operating under the theory two loud wrongs make a regrettable right. Moments after second-year partner Anthony Jordan incorrectly whistled Ron Artest for an offensive foul (when you jump for a pass, it’s incumbent on the opposition to give you space to land and a step to change direction, otherwise it’s not your bad) and for his original sin of the season – passing the ball to the ref when he wasn’t looking – the lead official ejected the Pacer All-Star-to-be in the second quarter of a major matchup for simply pursuing the conversation.
On one hand, Delaney wouldn’t take any guff from Artest, yet indulged the antics of Brad Miller when calls weren’t in his favor, and chronic complaining by Bobby Jackson, Reggie Miller and Jermaine O’Neal.
Still, Delaney’s inequity isn’t as troublesome as his brazen disregard for league protocol: Sources say refs are being told by supervisors to do whatever they can to keep people in the game and ordered to allow players and coaches the chance to discuss calls as well as establish rapport/respect with both.
As a rule, refs allow colleagues to handle the play and resulting circumstances. Delaney’s M.O. is to get involved when his input is neither wanted nor needed. This might have worked for the N.J State Police, but it does not work in pro basketball, especially when the NBA is asking, er, imploring its officials to open up communication.