Baron comes back, and so do the questions
OAKLAND – He was back, if as a bittersweet
reminder, and so were our questions. So were the "What ifs?" So was the
unavoidable reality that the team that lost Baron Davis hasn't done a
thing without him, and the team that lured him away for an oil sheik's
fortune has done even less.
Baron was out there in the red uniform of the Los Angeles Clippers.
Baron on the floor at Oracle Arena, where he had been a star for the
Warriors.
Who lost him last summer, because of a $65 million contract.
Or maybe because of their own negligence.
Or maybe because they believed they didn't need a 10-year veteran who seemed to be hurt as much as he was healthy.
Baron has taken some shots lately in L.A. The figurative kind. There
were those injuries – with Baron, always there are those injuries – and
an apparent lackadaisical attitude.
For $65 million, in his hometown, in the place where he went to school, UCLA, Baron was supposed to be a savior.
But can anybody ever save the Clippers, the NBA franchise that couldn't and never will?
Baron, having missed 15 games, has not been able.
Against his old team Tuesday night, Davis had 29 points and seven
assists, but that couldn't stop the Warriors from a 127-120 win.
One Los Angeles Times columnist, T.J. Simers, called Baron a
dog. Another, Kurt Streeter, a bit kinder, induced Davis to concede,
"This has been the worst year of my NBA career and the least fun I've
ever had."
The basketball cognoscenti might have predicted as much. The Clippers
are not only the second team in a one-team town, virtually undetectable
beyond the Lakers, they are historically inept, a symbol of sporting
incompetence, a punch line of Jay Leno jokes.
It's awful for Baron and the Clips (they now have a 16-51 record). It's
not so great for the Warriors either. They've had their own failings,
their own ailments. Management foresaw Monta Ellis as the quite
adequate replacement for Davis, but he missed weeks after that
cockamamie moped accident.
What if Baron had stayed? The idea is tossed at Davis, who steps
lightly on a line between diplomacy and disrespect. "I don't know," he
begins. "I'm a real optimistic person. I figured we came off a 48-win
season (in 2008), winning more games each year we were playing
together, so who knows what would have happened.
"But I definitely know we would have been in playoff contention and a good team to be reckoned with."
Coaches and teammates are different from fans. They judge on individual
merit. The paying customers consider the uniform, "the laundry," as
someone once said.
An athlete leaves as a free agent, if free ever should be a reference
when $65 million is concerned, and the people who buy the tickets
consider him a traitor to the cause.
Warriors coach Don Nelson said he would be "disappointed" if Baron were
booed in pregame introductions. After all, Nelson contended Baron was
"one of my favorite players" and along with Steve Nash, who Nellie had
at Dallas, the best of the point guards he'd been permitted to coach.
Davis was less demanding. "There probably will be a mixed reaction,"
Baron said. "I'll take whatever I can get. I'll be appreciative of the
cheers I do get. It just shows class, the level of mutual respect I
have for the fans and the fans for my time here."
Indeed the reaction was mixed but more positive than negative, some
fans, recalling that "We Believe" playoff fantasy of two seasons past,
when Baron indeed was royalty, even offering a standing ovation.
In L.A. there is but one basketball hero, Kobe Bryant. Baron was
brought in not so much to counter Kobe the Unconquerable, as create a
presence and – we turn our heads and chuckle in private – make
the Clips a contender.
Baron has been noticed, if not as hoped. But he says what others,
particularly journalists, think of him is not taken personally. Just as
was the occasional jeer Tuesday when he handled the ball.
"I let things run off my shoulders," was his response. "I have big
shoulders. I'm here to do one thing, that's to win, to get this team
where it needs to be. That's my mission. So if I'm criticized or
ridiculed, I accept it and use it as motivation to continue to get
better."
If that bears a resemblance to one of those Hollywood script speeches,
well, Baron is peripherally involved in the movie business, one of the
reasons we're advised he deserted the Warriors after three and a half
seasons.
Baron would speak no ill. Monta Ellis, Davis thinks, "is a great
player," and now powerless general manager Chris Mullin "a legend, a
Hall of Famer, someone who's always going to be in my corner and I'm
going to be in his."
Baron's in another sort of corner these days, but the memories are
sustaining. "I have admiration for these fans, the people in the Bay
Area. That playoff run, the fact it brought the whole community
together I'll always have. I'll always be able to cherish."
It was great, but it's gone. And unlike Baron, it may not return for a long while.
reminder, and so were our questions. So were the "What ifs?" So was the
unavoidable reality that the team that lost Baron Davis hasn't done a
thing without him, and the team that lured him away for an oil sheik's
fortune has done even less.
Baron was out there in the red uniform of the Los Angeles Clippers.
Baron on the floor at Oracle Arena, where he had been a star for the
Warriors.
Who lost him last summer, because of a $65 million contract.
Or maybe because of their own negligence.
Or maybe because they believed they didn't need a 10-year veteran who seemed to be hurt as much as he was healthy.
Baron has taken some shots lately in L.A. The figurative kind. There
were those injuries – with Baron, always there are those injuries – and
an apparent lackadaisical attitude.
For $65 million, in his hometown, in the place where he went to school, UCLA, Baron was supposed to be a savior.
But can anybody ever save the Clippers, the NBA franchise that couldn't and never will?
Baron, having missed 15 games, has not been able.
Against his old team Tuesday night, Davis had 29 points and seven
assists, but that couldn't stop the Warriors from a 127-120 win.
One Los Angeles Times columnist, T.J. Simers, called Baron a
dog. Another, Kurt Streeter, a bit kinder, induced Davis to concede,
"This has been the worst year of my NBA career and the least fun I've
ever had."
The basketball cognoscenti might have predicted as much. The Clippers
are not only the second team in a one-team town, virtually undetectable
beyond the Lakers, they are historically inept, a symbol of sporting
incompetence, a punch line of Jay Leno jokes.
It's awful for Baron and the Clips (they now have a 16-51 record). It's
not so great for the Warriors either. They've had their own failings,
their own ailments. Management foresaw Monta Ellis as the quite
adequate replacement for Davis, but he missed weeks after that
cockamamie moped accident.
What if Baron had stayed? The idea is tossed at Davis, who steps
lightly on a line between diplomacy and disrespect. "I don't know," he
begins. "I'm a real optimistic person. I figured we came off a 48-win
season (in 2008), winning more games each year we were playing
together, so who knows what would have happened.
"But I definitely know we would have been in playoff contention and a good team to be reckoned with."
Coaches and teammates are different from fans. They judge on individual
merit. The paying customers consider the uniform, "the laundry," as
someone once said.
An athlete leaves as a free agent, if free ever should be a reference
when $65 million is concerned, and the people who buy the tickets
consider him a traitor to the cause.
Warriors coach Don Nelson said he would be "disappointed" if Baron were
booed in pregame introductions. After all, Nelson contended Baron was
"one of my favorite players" and along with Steve Nash, who Nellie had
at Dallas, the best of the point guards he'd been permitted to coach.
Davis was less demanding. "There probably will be a mixed reaction,"
Baron said. "I'll take whatever I can get. I'll be appreciative of the
cheers I do get. It just shows class, the level of mutual respect I
have for the fans and the fans for my time here."
Indeed the reaction was mixed but more positive than negative, some
fans, recalling that "We Believe" playoff fantasy of two seasons past,
when Baron indeed was royalty, even offering a standing ovation.
In L.A. there is but one basketball hero, Kobe Bryant. Baron was
brought in not so much to counter Kobe the Unconquerable, as create a
presence and – we turn our heads and chuckle in private – make
the Clips a contender.
Baron has been noticed, if not as hoped. But he says what others,
particularly journalists, think of him is not taken personally. Just as
was the occasional jeer Tuesday when he handled the ball.
"I let things run off my shoulders," was his response. "I have big
shoulders. I'm here to do one thing, that's to win, to get this team
where it needs to be. That's my mission. So if I'm criticized or
ridiculed, I accept it and use it as motivation to continue to get
better."
If that bears a resemblance to one of those Hollywood script speeches,
well, Baron is peripherally involved in the movie business, one of the
reasons we're advised he deserted the Warriors after three and a half
seasons.
Baron would speak no ill. Monta Ellis, Davis thinks, "is a great
player," and now powerless general manager Chris Mullin "a legend, a
Hall of Famer, someone who's always going to be in my corner and I'm
going to be in his."
Baron's in another sort of corner these days, but the memories are
sustaining. "I have admiration for these fans, the people in the Bay
Area. That playoff run, the fact it brought the whole community
together I'll always have. I'll always be able to cherish."
It was great, but it's gone. And unlike Baron, it may not return for a long while.