Visions of a 2003-2004 Detroit Pistons NBA Championship
Jun 17 '04 (Updated Jul 10 '05)
The Bottom Line The Pistons won the championship and the clouds cried magenta tears of joy.
Not sure how they came together.
Do you know?
Many paths. Many reasons.
One goal. Not a ring. Not respect. Not nothing.
Basketball Joy To The Highest Degree.
They got it. This is their story.
The 2003-2004 NBA Champion Detroit Pistons.
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Tremaine Fowlkes was a jumping jack. Don't know what else to say about him. Only the insiders know.
(Tremain Fowlkes, reserve SF...not on the active playoff roster of 12)
Elden Campbell and Darvin Ham lived in an envelope that was signed, sealed, and supposedly delivered to their house several years ago. Inside was a letter from the NBA telling them they were no longer needed. I guess with their collective 519 lbs, no one was able to mail the letter.
(Elden Campbell, reserve C; Darvin Ham, reserve G/F)
Shhhhhh, come close. I got something to tell you. Look at Corliss Williamson and Mehmet Okur. Yeah, Corliss is the 6'8", hugely built black guy and yeah, Mehmet is the average lookin', tall white boy. They don't even look at each other, man. They don't got nothin' in common. Or at least that's what I thought. Keep this on the down-low, but yo, they're in one of them secret societies. What's it about, you ask? Yo, I don't know. But it ain't nice. All I gotta say is, don't screw with Rasheed or Ben Wallace or else these guys'll have to get into the game f'real. And you don't wanna know what I mean about that.
(Mehmet Okur, reserve C; Corliss Williamson, reserve SF/PF)
Remember Thing A and Thing B from "The Cat in the Hat"? Well, there's another, more underground, children's book called "I'm Mike James B*tch!...and Lindsey Hunter". These two guys are WAY more mischievous than those "Cat in the Hat" punks. They can dismantle any million dollar mansion (or NBA backcourt) in the matter of seconds. Call them termites in the human form with the allusion that they are on crack. Yeah, THAT'S a full-court press.
(Mike James, reserve PG; Lindsey Hunter, reserve combo G)
Darko comes from Serbia. He had to take a boat to basketball practice after the USA bombed his homeland, destroying the bridge that he would have normally gone on.
(Darko Milicic, reserve F/C)
Tayshaun Prince comes from a nest, not of this world. His parents, strong Krichobirds of another galaxy, did not know what to make of their son. He was human but he had the wingspan of the mightiest of Kricho. He would be shunned from his planet and cast away as a vagabond. His father would find him, sweep him up in the middle of the night, and take him to the land of the humans, or Earth, as we know it. Here, he learned how to utilize his freakish figure for the sport we here call basketball.
(Tayshaun Prince, starting SF)
Chauncey Billups and Richard Hamilton _must_ have known each other longer than the two years they spent as Piston teammates. Oh, and they have. They hail from the clouds - not the Heavens - the clouds. They shot the moon from 75 feet, into a basket that had no choice but to be lined with pure and blazing silver. When they went one-on-one, they pushed puddles of precipitation onto the humans of the Earth world. When one of them dunked, lightning shot down and the mortals ran for cover while tress split and the Earth cracked. They are the titans you heard about in Greek Mythology. Except it's all peace with these legends.
(Chauncey Billups, NBA Finals MVP, starting PG; Richard "Rip" Hamilton, starting SG)
Beneath the sewers laid a layer of filth and grit, unimaginable to any human. It was dark, cold, smelly, and ridden with bacteria. This is where Rasheed Wallace comes from. With only a few torches for lighting, Rasheed sat and meditated. He didn't even play basketball. He just waited for that day to come to the surface, where he would find his calling. At times, the 30 lbs sewer rats would make their way to his layer. He would let them eat at his flesh; it made him all the more stronger. Legend had it that he contained so much adrenaline flowing through his veins, the rats hearts would explode shortly after biting into him.
(Rasheed Wallace, starting PF)
There is but one more player to trace and that is Ben Wallace. He comes from the most amazing place one could ever imagine. It's a psychedelic fantasy island with pink volcanoes that spew neon green lava. The sun sets purple and rises bright white. It's an island of funk and downhome lovin'. Yet, there is a toughness to it that one would never be able to see from the surface. This toughness lives in the finger tips of Big Ben aka Buh-Buh-Buh-Buh-Buh BEN WALLACE! Not in his thick and imposing biceps, not in his beloved afro; in his finger tips. They controlled the power to destroy the world; the same power which could unite 13 individual gentlemen under one rally cry: "Championship or Die".
(Ben Wallace, starting PF)
Larry Brown coached 'em. He was already a legend. His marker and play-board could tell you the future if you only believed. "But you gotta play the right way", he would say.
He brought Herb Brown (his brother), Mike Woodson, Dave Hanners, Igor Kokoskov, and John Kuester with him to help.
Mike Abdenour kept everyone healthy. He had been with the Pistons since before Chauncey and Rip found the clouds, Rasheed surfaced, or Big Ben swam his 10,000 miles from the island to Auburn Hills.
Bill Davidson funded them.
But there was only one man with the power to bring these men all together. He was a man with experience in pulling a team together to hoist the great Larry O'Brien Trophy. After all, he himself was a NBA Finals MVP once upon a time, with the great Pistons no less. Say his name too loud and you'll fall out of your seat and sucked into the pores of the Earth. So, shutup, be very quiet, and listen because I'm only doing this once.
His. Name. Is...
Shhhh...
Joe Dumars.
Now never repeat that ever again or you're dead, got it?
Basketball hated the Pistons. Even more so, basketball hated the players who would become the Pistons.
Chauncey played everywhere!
Rip got dissed by the greatest dick to ever play the game!
Ben, Corliss, Tayshaun, Darvin, Tremaine, Mike? 'Tweeners, they had no position.
They even destroyed Darko's bridge so he couldn't play!
But he did.
And they did.
Turmoil.
But it was, ya know, that guy, he made things happen. He was of the basketball gods. He had the power.
What was the span of a few years to us, was merely 53 seconds in that guy's office. That's when _it_ happened.
That guy, ya know, saw them. He saw each player. He saw what they needed. They needed the Detroit Pistons. The Detroit Pistons needed them. That guy concentrated. The clouds shifted. Saturn moved over to kiss Jupiter. Jupiter flew into the sun. The sun exploded and one particle moved over Auburn Hills, Michigan (where the Pistons play) and it knew its mission. It brought 13 players and a coach (with his helpers) into one spot under its small but painfully beautiful orange light. And then it was over.
Oh, I almost forgot, Rasheed came later. It was hard to drag him out of his layer. That's one stubborn dude! Mike would also be pulled in at this time.
They started disjointed. Ben Wallace knew not what he possessed in his finger tips. He would discover it upon Rasheed and Mike's arrival, when all of the pieces were aligned; when everything was in place.
The road to the finals was jagged. And then there was Game 5 of the Eastern Conference Finals. That's when it all came together. No event can claim responsibility. With Detroit tied with Indiana 2 games to 2, they knew that they needed to come up with magic in this game which was taking place away from the comfort of the Palace of Auburn Hills. Then what was to be, began to take shape. The Pistons destroyed the Pacers, set Indianapolis ablaze, and still could not convince the writers of sports that they were the best. They went on to win Game 6 and were to go to the finals.
This is where they met Shaq and Kobe, the two baddest mofos known to date. Shaq and Kobe headlined the "pretty", "fun-to-watch" NBA team that everyone loved, known as the Lakers.
Why were they called the Lakers? The Pistons especially wondered this when they knew that the biggest fresh water lakes on Earth surrounded Michigan. But that wasn't the only thing that made no sense.
Why was everyone now discrediting the Pistons and claiming the championship for the Lakers? How could two players be considered better than one team? What was going on?
Now Big Ben's fingers were throbbing as if each one possessed 1,000 lbs of caffeine. He hurt so bad he loved the feeling. He was ready to "Go To Work". His team was, too, they just didn't know it like he knew it.
They played the right way, Larry would say. They played with the harmony of a utopian society. For five games they were perfect; they were dominant; they were the best. They _are_ the best. Not even an act of witchcraft performed by Kobe could phase the determined Pistons. Larry would not allow it. Ben would not relent.
Chauncey hit the clutch shots and ran the team.
Rip hit the jumpers and wore the mask.
Ben got the rebounds and blocked the shots.
Rasheed posted and intimidated.
Tayshaun shut Kobe down.
The bench supported as good supporters support.
Larry put his heart into his team and his team put Joy into his heart like he had never experienced it with basketball.
They slew the beast that was the Lakers and even more importantly, the misperception that anyone could break their unity. They came too far with too much passion to be denied. And it's all represented by the finger tips of a certain Big Ben that nobody wanted.
See, what you don't get is that the Detroit Pistons _were_ the team that was supposed to win the championship.
Take a moment, look around the league. Who has a TEAM like the Detroit Pistons? Who plays with their heart on their sleeve like the Detroit Pistons? Who has the determination, soul, blood, sweat, and tears swagger and disposition of the Detroit Pistons?
No one.
It's not about flash, it's not about superstars. Stars combust, that is their only inevitability.
This Pistons team is the atmosphere. No matter how you try to pollute it, its resilience still lets you breathe.
They came from different worlds; different walks of life. But they played with each other, for each other, and for the cause of the Joy they now bask in and they deserve every blissful moment.
A ring is mere gold.
The Pistons released a full spectrum of beautiful reds, greens, and blues in the Palace of Auburn Hills in the midnight of June 16, 2004.
Fans cheered.
Tears fell.
Joy.
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And that is the story of the 2003-2004 Detroit Pistons.
The most inspiring, most beautiful team I ever did watch.
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