The Detroit Pistons can’t seem to settle on a head coach.
Michael Curry was given a one-year trial in 2008-09. He was wildly inexperienced and seemed to lack the fire and tenacity he was known for during his playing career.
Next on the chopping block was coaching vagabond John Kuester. The “Kue” era lasted two forgettable seasons. His tenure was defined by a bizarre player revolt before a game in Philadelphia, as well as a brooding Rip Hamilton refusing to speak to him for weeks at a time.
Lawrence Frank took the wheel next, again for only two years, with the playoffs remaining a distant Pistons memory. He was thought to be a defensive wizard, but the team’s effort and execution on that end of the floor saw little to no improvement under his watch.
A stubborn streak ultimately did him in, refusing to give extended court time to Andre Drummond while aging veterans Jason Maxiell and Tayshaun Prince continued to log heavy minutes.
The 2013-14 campaign has belonged to NBA retread Maurice Cheeks. Despite eight prior seasons of experience without a single playoff series triumph, Joe Dumars decided this was going to be his man to provide a desperately-needed shot of energy to a dying organization. Cheeks has been anything but.
His behavior during games isn’t just low-key; it’s basically devoid of any emotion at all. His rotations and in-game strategy lack any creativity whatsoever. Whatever it is that Dumars thought he was signing up for with Cheeks has not come to fruition.
But it is also wholly unfair to expect that much more from these Bad News Bears that Cheeks inherited. He was dealt a rotten hand, and while it would be admirable if he somehow turned it into three-of-a-kind or a flush, the reality is that this squad is no better than ace-high, maybe a small pair at best.
The real mystery here is why Joe Dumars keeps settling for journeymen to lead his beloved Pistons.
Why does he continue to tab vanilla coaches, ones that lack any hint of a personality, with little to no chance of energizing the city? Where is the shot-in-the-dark candidate, the guy with a giant chip on his shoulder, the guy with nothing to lose and everything to prove? Where is the guy that would give his left arm to see the Pistons back atop the basketball world?
Where is Bill Laimbeer?
Working Toward A Dream
Bill Laimbeer was always a player that needed to be cerebral to get by. Sure, he was tall and burly, checking in at a solid 6’11”, 245 lbs, but his leaping prowess was widely considered to be in the bottom 1% of the league. He had to think the game:
“Where should I best position myself to collect this defensive board?”
“Which player will lose his cool the quickest if I deliver a hard foul?”
“Should I be nervous that these Celtics fans are going to murder me after the game?”
As a four-time All-Star, two-time champion, and a player that retired as one of the 20 most prolific rebounders in NBA history, I would say he understood the nuances of the game superbly, and over time, learned to become a master.
After hanging up the sneakers, it was time to make the trademark post playing-career move into youth coaching and TV broadcasting. Lamb cut his teeth instructing his daughter’s AAU team while teaming with George Blaha on Pistons’ telecasts. But it wasn’t quite enough.
Competing for basketball championships at the highest level was what drove Laimbeer. Even as an announcer, where he was goofy and unrefined, you could feel his passion coming through the microphone. This wasn’t just some job to him, watching a little hoop and picking up a nice paycheck. He wanted the Pistons to be winners.
Often times, when Chauncey Billups or Jon Barry would raise up for a three late in the game, with Blaha astutely calling the action, Laimbeer would randomly blurt out “GO IN!” with the ball in mid-flight. It bordered on unprofessional and probably rankled Blaha’s combover a little bit, but it was more endearing than anything else. Laimbeer didn’t care how it looked or sounded; he couldn’t help himself. The big fella bled Piston red, white, and blue.
Lucky for him, one of the teams in town would soon become interested in his services.
Proving Himself
Laimbeer took over the worst team in the WNBA midway through the 2002 season. One year later, his Detroit Shock were league champions. Laimbeer quickly gained a reputation throughout the league as a basketball savant. He built his championship roster by wheeling and dealing with several teams, a tactic rarely employed in the women’s game.
Three years later, Lamb captained the Shock to a second championship. After dropping a winner-take-all heartbreaker in in the next season’s Finals, the Shock would bounce back to win the whole enchilada again in 2008. Three league titles in just six full years of coaching. Laimbeer had proven that there were indeed some brains to go with the brawn.
But the WNBA was never the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for Laimbeer. He wanted to be a head coach in the National Basketball Association, and the whole world knew it. Just three games into the ’09 campaign, he handed the Shock over to Rick Mahorn and announced his intentions of graduating to the NBA sidelines.
It’s hardly a coincidence that Laimbeer resigned when he did. His pride and joy, the Pistons, were getting ready to axe Curry at any time. They would be without a coach and Lamb wanted to be ready when the opportunity came. But it never did. A few weeks later, the anonymous John Kuester was handed the reins, to the excitement and delight of absolutely nobody in Detroit. Laimbeer packed his things and took an assistant’s job in Minnesota.
Stereotypes Abound
This is where the ship started sinking for Laimbeer.
During his time on the Timberwolves’ bench, people began to view him as some type of basketball dinosaur, clinging hopelessly to his elbow-swinging ways of the 80’s, unable to relate to the more pampered athletes of the 2010’s.
There was a pre-draft workout where Laimbeer supposedly lost his temper at a player that was unable to perform a simple drill correctly. There were rumors from league executives that he was “lazy.” He had full-scale culture shock when the T-Wolves conducted a full practice where contact was strictly prohibited. A short two years later, Kurt Rambis and the rest of the staff were sent packing. Laimbeer was once again on the outside looking in.
Therein lies the problem. Nowadays, when a certain mentality or opinion takes hold in the sports world, it spreads like wildfire. Nothing is limited to a small-town newspaper or local cable show. All it takes is for a couple little birdies to start chirping that you don’t know how to treat the current NBA player, that your approach to coaching is too coarse and not sustainable; soon enough, that sentiment very rapidly changes from a simple viewpoint to some type of inarguable truth.
It takes actual effort to evaluate a situation, then judge it fairly and without bias. The easy thing to do is just echo what the guy next to you said. “Well, if that’s what he thinks, it must be true.” Laimbeer fell victim to the NBA’s version of the kid’s game “Telephone.” What started as a whisper soon became a full-scale scream from the rest of the league; “You don’t belong here anymore.”
A Franchise On Life Support
With any debate that involves an unknown component, it is impossible to guarantee an outcome one way or the other. I cannot pretend that Laimbeer would automatically have taken hold of an NBA franchise and immediately steered it on a road to the playoffs and beyond. The naysayers may very well have some validity to their claims. Maybe he is too stuck in his ways. Maybe the hard-nosed, no-nonsense approach would clash violently in today’s more player-dominated professional environment.
But he deserved a shot to find out for himself. And as a head coach, not some lackey in charge of carrying Rambis’ clipboard and goggles.
With the Detroit Pistons fading into oblivion over the last half-dozen years, it would have been the perfect time for Dumars to toss the Lamb a bone. It would have brought an identity back to the team and a jolt back to the Palace. Maybe he would have ruffled some feathers along the way, but isn’t that preferable to the current reality of inaction and passivity?
The 2013-14 edition of the Pistons is a complete mess.
One of the main contributors to the disharmony is Josh Smith and his insatiable desire to launch long jumpers, spitting in the face of logic and common sense in the process.
There have been a number of national articles written recently documenting the historic ineptitude Smith has exhibited both from the field and at the free throw line. Bill Laimbeer is not the type to stand idly by and watch such shenanigans. He would likely call Smith on the carpet, demanding for smarter play. Would it work? How would Smith react?
Who cares?
At least the team would have a coach that isn’t satisfied settling for mediocrity.
A Path To Nowhere
Both the thought process and value system of Joe Dumars have gone totally haywire in recent years. Whereas he once treasured veteran leadership and a hard-hat mentality, now he willingly dishes out hefty contracts to unpolished ball-hogs with an aversion to team chemistry. His choices run so counter to logical thinking that you get the sense Joe D is now doing it just to be different:
“The whole state wants me to draft Trey Burke?? Psshh, try this imitation Ron Mercer on for size!”
“You say Brandon Jennings doesn’t play that hard? I’m willing to give him a three-year deal to find out!”
“Oh, the fans would like a coach with a history of winning? Someone that could install some real discipline? A guy that might actually get in somebody’s face and look to change a crumbling culture and provide life support to an organization on life support??? Nah, forget all that. I’d rather just hire a guy that doesn’t do much of anything.”
And so this is where we stand today. The Pistons, who recently dropped games to the East and West’s worst teams (Milwaukee, Utah), remain a non-factor in the league. Their glory days continue to get smaller in the rear view mirror, with no discernible plan to ever return.
And Bill Laimbeer reaches to turn the ringer off his phone. His small window of opportunity in the league that he yearns for came and went.
He is back in the welcoming arms of the WNBA now, coaching the New York Liberty. They have been around since the league’s inception, yet are still searching for that elusive first title. They might not have the talent yet, and it might take a couple more years for Lamb to mold the clay to his exact specifications, but it would come as no surprise to see a banner being raised in Madison Square Garden sooner rather than later.
He was a winning player and a winning coach. Championship rings could occupy an entire hand. But somehow, it’s never been good enough for a chance with the team he cares about most. It’s their loss.
Scared money can’t make money, and in selecting head coaches, Joe Dumars has been timid as a mouse.
There would have been countless doubters yapping at the idea of hiring an old-school type like Bill Laimbeer; but with great risk comes the possibility of great reward.
Unfortunately, we’ll never know how that story would have turned out.
