Given more time and fewer re sources, Rod Thorn probably could’ve made a worse coaching choice than Avery Johnson . . . but damned if I can imagine who that micro-managing, playoff-pressure-leaking megalomaniac might be.
Johnson’s so high maintenance, he scares the bejeezus out of Naomi Campbell.
As a casual NBA columnist, you hear horror stories all the time about those carried away with their self-perceived importance. Then there are those unpleasant scenes that unfold right before your disbelieving eyes and ears that reverse your opinion forever about someone you greatly admired and respected as a player and a person.
On, June 18, 2006, the Mavericks lost 101-100 to the Heat in Miami, dropping their third straight after winning the first two games of the finals in Dallas. Afterward, at the largely attended press conference and shown live on NBATV, Avery, for no reason, became confrontational with veteran Eddie Sefko, who covered the team for the Dallas Morning News at the time, and before that for the Houston Chronicle.
In such situations, I often empathize with players and coaches who are obligated to answer dumb questions then asked to expound on even dumber follow-ups. This was not vaguely one of those situations.
Sefko happens to be one of the nicest guys around, the kind of beat writer every coach would love to have (throw softballs at him) on a regular basis. On this occasion, standing in the back of the room in front of the microphone, he asked Johnson’s impression of controversial free throws awarded Dwyane Wade.
“You tell me, what was your impression?”
“Nobody cares about my . . .”
“No, you tell everyone . . . you tell . . .,” Avery said.
“My impression is that he got two free throws out of it,” Sefko replied.
“That’s a political answer . . . we’re waiting . . .”
Each time Johnson refused to reply his belittling tone became abrasive. Sefko finally got flustered, tried to ask another question but had trouble finding words.
“Stop stuttering,” Johnson mocked.
Offended writers and embarrassed league officials who’d seen it all during decades on the front line agreed they’d never seen a coach unravel like that.
Actually, Avery’s meltdown began several days and one loss before. Believing his players had come to South Beach to party (Jerry Stackhouse had rented a yacht for him and his family) instead of play, The Little General redeployed the team to a Marriott 20 miles away, and ordered 30-year-olds locked down. No one was permitted to leave the premises
Did pointing a crooked finger at the players, changing their routine and treating them like children cause the Mavs to lose the remaining two games in Miami and four straight overall? Not necessarily, but his conspicuous instability certainly didn’t help.
I keep reading how hard Johnson works, and how well he can teach and coach. To an extent, that’s all true. But how he conducted himself when he was feeling the “Heat” revealed the fragility of his personality.
His strategy also leaves a lot to be desired. Let’s not forget how he cut back Mavs’ starters’ minutes, or didn’t play them at all the last 10 games of the 2006-07 season when they won a league-best 67. Consequently, they didn’t go after the opportunity to eliminate Don Nelson’s Warriors from playoff contention.
Nobody knew the Mavs better than Nellie, whose title-contending team Avery had inherited with 18 games left in 2004-05. He exploited every mismatch and pulled off one of league’s all-time first-round upsets.
The following season the heavily-favored Mavs again were erased in round one. Johnson authored his second book soon after, something about instructions on how to live life. This from a guy who alienated his players, coaching staff, office workers and even owner Mark Cuban (talked to him like you can’t believe) during that final season. Only one voice was allowed to speak at practice or in games and that was his.
“He worked so hard he thought he could do it all himself,” said a leftover Maverick.
“This is very difficult to say,” countered another employee, “but Avery treated people who worked for him like slaves.”
Sources say he had no patience if the least little thing went wrong. And he’d berate underlings in front of the players long and loud.
Of course, none of the above is to suggest Avery shouldn’t win coaching honors next season when the exceedingly well-positioned — in terms of cap room and draft picks — Nets improve from 12-70 to, say, 41-41.
There’s no denying Johnson has a knack for coaching. But it’s undeniable he needs to let go some of the control. He may begin games wanting his point to run the show and the team to get out on the break. But, at the first sign of trouble, he pulls back and starts calling every play.
And calling people names.
“The first thing Avery better figure out is not to yell at Lopez,” underlined a Nets staffer. “If he abuses him, Brook is going to do one of two things, smack him or go into a shell. Brook has a helluva temper, but he’s more likely to go into a funk.”
So, what’s in store for Thorn, who decided to bring in this sky-maintenance egotist? He got a preclude when Johnson issued a press release to AP he’d taken the job before the Nets had a chance to do it.