Seven Seconds or Less

by Jack McCallum

  Dave Griffin is right inside the locker room door, as always, slapping hands with every coach and every player as they go by. Only when he goes into the coaches office does he roll up his box score and heave it at the wall.

  “Well, we moved a step closer with a couple of guys standing over there in suits,” says Gentry, alluding to Stoudemire and Kurt Thomas. But he knows he can’t put a good face on it. “It’s the first time I saw us back on our heels a little bit,” he adds. “We missed a couple of shots and we kind of hung our heads.”

  “We scored fifteen points in the third period,” says D’Antoni. “And L.B. getting in foul trouble hurt us.” His voice sounds hoarse, choked with fatigue and emotion.

  Gentry stares at his possession chart. “And then we got in a lot of half-court stuff,” he says. He begins counting. “We were two for fifteen at one point from the end of the third into early in the fourth.”

  D’Antoni has other concerns—tomorrow’s individual exit meetings with the players—and confers with Griffin on the schedule. Sarver comes in, his Marion jersey dotted with sweat.

  “I’m not going to be around tomorrow,” he says, “so I’d like to talk to them now.”

  “Let’s go in,” says D’Antoni.

  The locker room is quiet as D’Antoni speaks, then Sarver, then Marion. Then the coach turns to his cocaptain.

  Steve? You got anything?

  An hour after the game, the benedictions have been pronounced.

  “I’m hurting inside right now,” Marion said. “It was a helluva year. It was great playing with these guys. To see us go out here and do what we did was amazing. I got no words for it now. I wish it wasn’t over. All we overcame, all the injuries, everything, I’m proud to be a part of this.”

  “Never once did I think about one of these elimination games being the final game,” said Bell. “It just always felt like we had a team that was going to get it done.”

  “Our guys fought as hard as they could,” said D’Antoni. “They just ran out of steam.”

  “The Suns had an incredible year,” said Avery Johnson. “Nash is such a special player. I had to change my pick-and-roll coverage every time down the court. It was a special run for them, especially without Stoudemire.”

  Dustin Krugel of the Suns’ public relations staff announces, “It was two hundred and fourteen days ago that we began the season by blowing a seventeen-point lead to Dallas. We led by eighteen at one point tonight.”

  Ninety minutes later, Nash walks out alone. Even most of the fans have left their posts along what the players call “the gauntlet,” a long table behind which season ticket-holders can get autographs. Nash is walking slowly. He stops and signs a few times, shakes some hands, flashes a weary smile. His family has gone home ahead of him. As he heads toward the players’ parking lot, I stop him. Other duties require me to ask him about Nowitzki for a story I’m writing for Sports Illustrated.

  “This isn’t the best timing,” I say, “but I want to ask you something about Dirk.”

  “Sure,” he says.

  From behind me, I hear a voice say, “Give it up, Jack. Book’s over.”

  “Who’s that?” I ask.

  “Raja,” says Nash.

  “Tell him ‘Not quite.’ ”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Phoenix, June 4……………….

  “You know, the perception is: Amare’ comes back and we win a championship. We all know it’s not that simple. I’m not afraid to make a move, but I don’t want to do something…rash.”

  Today is the thirtieth anniversary of the most famous game in Suns’ history, one of the most famous games in NBA history, in fact. On June 4, 1976, in Boston Garden, Game 5 of the Finals, the Suns, who came into the postseason not even favored to advance one round, extended the Boston Celtics to three overtimes before losing 128–126. They then lost the series in Game 6, which is as far as the franchise got in 1993 when the Bulls beat them at home in a Game 6. Last night’s loss to Dallas ended the farthest incursion a Suns team had made into the postseason since that Barkley-led ’93 squad. If anyone who shows up for the send-off series of meetings has taken note of the day, he doesn’t say anything. Ancient history is not a valued commodity to pro athletes.

  The locker room has a last-day-of-school feel to it. Jay Gaspar has placed a couple of huge bins in the middle, into which dozens of stray sneakers, T-shirts, and other warmup gear have been tossed. The assistant coaches rummage through it, picking up isolated pieces of equipment they will donate to local middle schools and high schools. “It’ll all pretty much have to go to really big kids,” says Gentry.

  The players pack up their assorted belongings and receive their 2005–06 season books, a modest document put together by the marketing department. “Eddie,” Nash says with mock shyness to House, “would you be the first to sign my yearbook?”

  Each of the players has a fifteen-minute exit meeting with D’Antoni, Griffin, and Del Negro, who next season will take over officially as director of player personnel. Griffin is vice president of basketball operations answering to D’Antoni, who became, after Colangelo’s departure, executive vice president of basketball operations and general manager as well as head coach. “Mike’s got a business card problem,” says his brother. D’Antoni is now one of the most powerful men in the NBA.

  The exit meetings are designed to be air-clearing sessions during which the player is supposed to present gripes, and the coach and personnel men are supposed to give an honest evaluation of where the player does or does not fit in next year’s plans. After the exit meetings are over, the players will meet in private to divvy up the playoff shares. It’s a fitting symbolic end to the season: It’s all about the Benjamins.

  As the meetings go on behind closed doors, the assistant coaches cluster outside of the office, enjoying time with each other that, mercifully, doesn’t include devising defenses to stop Dirk Nowitzki or Elton Brand or Kobe Bryant. Phil Weber is compiling a list of viable night spots for Dan D’Antoni’s bachelor sons who are coming for a visit. “I’m the fun counselor,” says Weber.

  There is almost no talk of the upcoming Finals between Dallas and Miami. They need a break from basketball, though it will be short-lived. The sessions to be spent discussing the draft and trade scenarios will sometimes be longer than the ones spent discussing playoff strategy. And those meetings start tomorrow.

  Inside the office, D’Antoni is talking to Boris Diaw. If there is one player who exceeded preseason expectations, it is Diaw. D’Antoni’s training camp comment—“Boris might get us all fired”—has been amended to “We have to have this guy.” The same thing has happened to the franchise that happened to Thomas Jefferson: It has been utterly and absolutely seduced by France.

  “Boris, real quick, I’ll tell you what I told you last night,” begins D’Antoni. “In the biggest game of the season you gave us thirty and eleven. You were the league’s Most Improved Player. I just appreciate everything you’ve done. You’re fun. You helped make the locker room great. Other than kissing your ass, I don’t have much to say.

  “The main thing is that there is no reason your goal should not be to be one of the best players in the league. That’s how good you can be. I think you could do a little more in terms of getting with these guys [the trainers] and work on your body. You don’t want to break down, you don’t want to get old. Because you could play next year a little more on the perimeter, use your quickness.

  “I think we’re close to winning a championship. Now, the next step is getting Amare’ back. You’ve never experienced that. It’s like throwing a big boulder into a pond. There is going to be some waves and there will be some impact. Maybe you can’t get on the left elbow as much as you’d want and you have to get on the right elbow, stuff like that we just have to figure out.”

  Diaw mostly nods, ever the pleasant fellow. He can’t even find much to debate about. They talk briefly about the upcoming world championships at which France, led by Diaw
and his close friend, San Antonio point guard Tony Parker, should be extremely competitive.

  “This summer is good for me because I will be playing a lot of guard,” says Boris. “I look forward to seeing you there.” He smiles at D’Antoni, who will be an assistant for the U.S. team.

  “Good luck, Boris,” says Griffin, “and enjoy carrying Tony Parker’s ass.”

  The meetings have gone well, as D’Antoni reports to Nash when he comes in for his session. Pat Burke didn’t seem happy over the final six weeks of the season, yet, in his exit interview, he expressed a desire to remain with the team. “Part of what happened with Pat was my fault,” D’Antoni tells Nash. “I had my reasons but, as a coach, they just weren’t good enough. But you know what? As long as he’s good with you guys, that’s all that counts.”

  “I love all the guys who don’t play,” Nash tells D’Antoni, Griffin, and Del Negro. “Off the court, when we travel, they all give a lot. I believe in all that stuff about the importance of the group and how it functions. I believe it’s important.”

  “Somehow we have to keep it fun for you, Steve,” says D’Antoni. “The only thing that will wear you down over the next five years will be mental. Your body will hold up fine. We’ll try to cut your minutes down a little, but even playing thirty-four minutes…it’s the kind of minutes.”

  “Was it harder for you this year, the way we had to play?” asks Griffin.

  “It was a little harder, yeah,” says Nash. “Without Amare’, it seemed like I was fighting every play.”

  “You know, the perception is: Amare’ comes back and we win a championship,” says D’Antoni. “We all know it’s not that simple. I’m not afraid to make a move, but I don’t want to do something…rash.”

  “That’s what Dallas did for two straight years,” says Nash, speaking from experience. “They thought they were close so they brought in Antoine Walker and Raef LaFrentz. Next thing we knew, we were worse.”

  “But, again, Steve, man, what you’ve done here, two-time MVP, all the…”

  “You can only say ‘He makes everybody better so many times,’ ” says Griffin.

  “Why don’t you ask about renegotiating?” I say.

  “You’re supposed to be keeping quiet,” Griffin says.

  “Make sure you’re telling me how you’re feeling, Steve,” says D’Antoni, laughing, “because I’m retiring when you are.”

  “I’m planning on playing next year at least,” says Nash with a smile.

  D’Antoni gets up, somewhat sheepishly, and pulls a basketball out of a plastic shopping bag. “One thing…could you sign this?” The whole year has gone by and he has never asked Nash to autograph anything.

  Nash signs and gives it to D’Antoni, and they exchange one of those awkward man-hugs. Griffin and Del Negro get up and Nash man-hugs with them, too.

  “I should stay out of this,” I say.

  Nash reaches out and gives me a man-hug, too.

  “Jack,” he says, “now you can fuck off.”

  Epilogue

  On June 28, the morning of the 2006 NBA draft, Chris Bianco of Pizzeria Bianco brought in a few dozen of his celebrated basil-and-mozzarella sandwiches to the coaches office on the fourth floor of US Airways Center. He hung around for a few hours as the Suns tried to move up from their twenty-first and twenty-seventh draft positions.

  Robert Sarver popped in and out. At one point he called me in to Mike D’Antoni’s office, grabbed a pair of scissors, and thinned out my eyebrows.

  Dave Griffin worked the phones all day, D’Antoni having pretty much turned the seed work of the draft over to him. The Suns doubted they could move up high enough to snag one of the big-name players, but perhaps they could make a deal to get in the mid-teens and select Thabo Sefolosha, a six-foot-six-inch forward/guard from Switzerland who was the consensus favorite of the coaches and personnel people.

  But the Suns couldn’t get anything done, and Philadelphia snagged Sefolosha with the thirteenth pick. So the Suns traded away both of their picks, enabling them to save about $9 million through various means.

  Some of that was targeted to re-signing Tim Thomas. Instead, the Rental signed a four-year $24.2 million deal with the Los Angeles Clippers. The Suns thought that too much money to pay for Thomas but aren’t thrilled he’ll be going to a Pacific Division rival.

  Phoenix successfully extended the contract of Leandro Barbosa, giving the Brazilian Blur a five-year deal worth about $33 million. An extension could not be worked out for Boris Diaw, who will become a restricted free agent at the end of next season.

  Eddie House opted out of the final year of his contract and signed with the New Jersey Nets. Kurt Thomas and James Jones will be back unless the Suns move one or both—that had not happened as of August 30. Pat Burke is also expected to be back with the team, but the Suns did not pick up the option on Nikoloz Tskitishvili, who will likely be playing the 2006–07 season in Europe.

  Brian Grant took a medical retirement. He will still be paid more than $15 million from the Lakers.

  As of early August, the Suns made one major roster move—signing free-agent point guard Marcus Banks to a five-year deal worth about $21 million. He is an open-court player and, most of all, a pit-bull defender, an ideal backup for Nash, which the Suns considered their most pressing need. Phoenix also picked up Eric Piatkowski, a Gentry favorite who has three-point range, and Sean Marks, an all-purpose big man with whom Burke will be competing for bench minutes.

  Amare’ Stoudemire, Shawn Marion, Mike D’Antoni, and Jerry Colangelo all went to camp in Las Vegas with the U.S. Olympic team. When the team left for the Far East and the FIBA world championships, however, only D’Antoni, the assistant coach, and Colangelo, the head of USA Basketball, went along. Stoudemire was one of the final three players cut, and it wasn’t a major surprise. He had also played for the Suns’ summer league team in Las Vegas and pronounced himself improving every day from his knee surgery. Others still worry about his lost “pop.”

  Marion eventually begged off the Olympic team because of concerns about tendinitis in his knee. He was widely believed, however, to be suffering from “tired-itis.”

  It is expected that Colangelo will have a diminished role in the affairs of the Suns and, increasingly, is looking for a gold medal in 2008 as the final part of his basketball legacy.

  In that competition, the United States saw both Barbosa, who played for Brazil, and Diaw, who was named captain of the French team.

  With a considerably higher profile, Raja Bell made several personal appearances here and abroad. “The Raja Bell World Tour,” Griffin called it. He and Steve Nash were scheduled to go with the NBA on its Basketball Without Borders mission to South Africa in September.

  While walking his twins one hot July day in New York City, Nash was beseiged by autograph seekers. He impulsively ducked into a salon and got his long locks shorn. “I just felt like taking it off,” he said by way of explanation. As of August, he had what in the 1950s was known as a crew cut. D’Antoni was ready with a wisecrack: “All those people who were always telling Steve that he should cut his hair,” said the coach, “may want to rethink their position.”

  As for the empty space on the wall outside of the coaches office, once filled by the photo of Charles Barkley and Michael Jordan, there is now a team shot of the Suns linking arms in their pregame ritual. It adorns the cover of this book.

  Acknowledgments

  My bosses at Sports Illustrated gave me their blessing to do this project, and I thank them for it: managing editor Terry McDonell, deputy managing editor David Bauer, and executive editors Rob Fleder and Mike Bevans. The editor with whom I worked most closely during the NBA season, Chris Stone, showed me an incredible amount of leeway, as well as an astounding knowledge of, and interest in, the Phoenix Suns for someone based in New York City.

  Editorial guidance was provided by four other SI types: senior editors Mark Bechtel and Hank Hersch, writer-reporter Chris Mannix, and my literary
coconspirator, senior writer L. Jon Wertheim. Also, one non-SI type, Donna Kisselbach, who didn’t let the fact that she is my wife deter her from proffering opinions.

  Special thanks to my agent, Scott Waxman, and my editor, Brett Valley at Touchstone, both of whom had the vision to see a book emerging from a magazine article.

  The project would never have gotten off the ground without Julie Fie, the Suns’ vice president of communications, who is so good at her job that she can be forgiven for sipping that green vitamin concoction that goes everywhere with her. Her assistants, DC Headley, Dustin Krugel, and Sue Laschowsky, were of great assistance, too.

  I appreciate the help extended me by all those people who had to push buttons, make calls, or open doors to afford me entrance to the arena or a particular office: Debbie Villa, Ceola Coaston, Kym Hornbeak, Dave Bassoni, and Tom Guy. Jill Mueske, the Suns’ travel chief, never failed to help me reach my desired destination.

  I enjoyed flying with, busing with, dining with, and just talking to the Suns’ extraordinarily down-to-earth broadcasters, in particular, Al McCoy, a legend in the Valley of the Sun and points beyond. Vinny Del Negro (whose considerable acumen will now be used in the front office), Eddie Johnson, Tim Kempton, Gary Bender, Tom Leander, and Dan Majerle couldn’t have been more cooperative even as they had to wonder from time to time: What exactly is this guy doing?

  Many members of the Phoenix media became friends or acquaintances, including KSAZ TV 10 anchorman Jude LaCava and Arizona Republic columnist Dan Bickley. And I have nothing but admiration for the Suns’ beat writers, Paul Coro of the Arizona Republic and Jerry Brown of the East Valley/Scottsdale Tribune, who watched as an interloper entered the dressing room they covered and always accepted it with the right spirit. Their stories were well-written and insightful, too. Marc Stein of ESPN.com provided encouragement and a constant reminder that he is a tough man to beat in the info-gathering game.