Heat a crying shame
March 7, 2011 · 9:11AM
Following a trajectory roughly akin to Charlie Sheen’s “winning,” Erik Spoelstra’s “crying” went from stunning revelation to national catchphrase to beaten-dead-horse cliché in a span of about 12 hours.
Dwyane Wade, who might or might not have been among those blubbering in the locker room after the Miami Heat’s 87-86 home matinee loss to the Chicago Bulls, even dipped a toe into Sheen waters when it was over. “We’re competitors, we’re winners, we’re human,” the Heat shooting guard said, at the precise moment when that middle label seemed furthest from the truth. Four consecutive defeats. Five in six games. A team in disarray, a dressing room soggy now with tears.
When Spoelstra, the Heat coach, mentioned in his postgame media session that “a couple of guys are crying in the locker room,” he did so in an aside, almost. It was his way of telling the world that, beyond what any fan or critic might feel about Miami meltdown, his staff and the players feel it deeper. “This is painful for every single one of us going through this,” Spoelstra said. “There are a couple guys crying in the locker room right now. It is not a matter of want, it is a matter of doing. And continuing to put ourselves in this position until we break through.”
Continuing, the coach said: “There is nothing else we can do but stay together.”
Most of his points fell away with his disclosure that the Heat — beyond being about as resilient as a box of Kleenex at the moment — apparently need to start buying their tissues in bulk.
Eyebrows throughout the NBA immediately were raised. The social media ignited. First came a whole lot of “Really? He said that?” Followed rather quickly by jokes, snorts and mockery. “Forget Bobby Knight, Donald Trump or Warren Buffet,” one wise guy said. “These guys need a pep talk from Tom Hanks, who can tell them there’s no crying in basketball either.”
Sports-talk radio piled on, loading up bumper music like this and this and this out of their commercial breaks. At the Celtics-Bucks game at the Bradley Center, somebody speculated that the “couple” criers were Heat president Pat Riley and team owner Micky Arison. Then an actual NBA player walked by.
“If Riley’s crying today,” the player said, “Spoelstra’s going to be crying tomorrow.”
Had Spoelstra stressed how “upset” and “frustrated” the Heat players were or simply circled the verbal wagons with a stiff upper-lip, no one would have blinked. Toothpaste out of the tube, though: The mental toughness and maturity of his star-anchored roster now is being questioned along with everything else, including stuff that actually matters:
* Miami is 1-9 against the top five teams in the NBA, including 0-3 each against Eastern Conference rivals Boston and Chicago.
* Against a sampling of the league’s elite point guards – with center, one of two positions where the Miami club is seriously overmatched — the Heat are 2-13. That group: Derrick Rose, Deron Williams, Chris Paul, Tony Parker, Chauncey Billups and Jason Kidd.
* Miami has failed at a staggering rate in late-game situations – the exact opposite of what a bystander might expect, given the individual heroics through the years of both Wade and LeBron James. Updated by ESPN’s terrific Heat chronicler Brian Windhorst, that crew has shot 1-for-18 in the final 10 seconds when it has a chance to tie or win in the fourth quarter or overtime. And the one that worked out — a dunk by James that sent Miami into overtime in Memphis — got thwarted in the end by Rudy Gay’s own clutch shot.
If one definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different result, the Heat aren’t just crying. They’re crazy.
Four times now in the five-out-of-six losing streak — at Chicago on Feb. 24, then against New York, Orlando and the Bulls since then — James has tried to succeed late. Four times (from the perimeter twice, while attacking the rim twice) he has failed. After getting stymied by Chicago big Joakim Noah Sunday, James promised his team — “my team” sure sounds different from “my teammates,” doesn’t it? — that he will be getting it right in the future.
But getting it right might mean getting out of the way. Wade is the player most adept at creating and making game-winners. Wade is the one who, sitting right next to James at the front table in that interview room, basically pleaded for the chance to be the go-to guy, at least in those late moments.
It’s not clear, however, if allowing that is part of James’ Adonis DNA.
You almost wish these guys would have their Scottie Pippen-Toni Kukoc moment, where Pippen took himself out of a Chicago playoff game vs. New York with 1.8 seconds left in 1994 because Phil Jackson drew up the final shot for Kukoc rather than him. That moment did sort things out and clear the air.
The Heat need that desperately.
It all comes down to fit in Miami. What caused some to question Riley’s insta-team approach was the overlap in James’ and Wade’s ball-mandatory, alpha-dog styles. Those guys did the same things, played the same way, craved the same roles. Complimenting each other, as pals who wanted to hang together through 82 games and the presumed postseason romps, isn’t the same as complementing each other.
Other teams heavy with stars – the teams that have won – have had players who fill each other’s voids, add to each other’s strengths. The San Antonio Spurs, for instance, are the epitome of team in today’s NBA because Tim Duncan, Manu Ginobili and Tony Parker all do different things (Sunday’s loss to the Lakers not withstanding).
Even the current Bulls – whose kinda-big three of Rose, Noah and Carlos Boozer barely glimmer compared to Miami’s star power – blend better than James and Wade, with Chris Bosh loitering outside, hoping for kick-outs.
Because of the similarities and because Spoelstra has not found a way to pair James and Wade in enough action (beyond transition), Miami basketball devolves into a my turn-your turn approach that instantly makes life easier than it should be for opposing teams. Really, the toughest thing so far about facing James and Wade on the same team is that there is no respite in 48 minutes; at least one of them can be on the floor at all times.
They play together — they are on the floor together — plenty. It’s the playing together that needs work.
Unless, that is, we’re missing the point entirely and the play as drawn up Sunday was to get the ball to Wade by having him frantically chase down James’ miss over Noah, avoid stepping on the right baseline and hoist a hurried turnaround before the buzzer.
http://hangtime.blogs.nba.com/2011/03/0 ... ef:nbahpt1 
