Full-Frontal Avery

A Naked Truth About Teams' Disinterest

Mike Fisher -- DB.com

     Is Suns GM Steve Kerr’s slap-of-omission of Avery Johnson an accident, a slip of the tongue, a brain-cramping oversight?

     Or is Kerr’s view fueled by his first-hand knowledge of one of the NBA’s worst-kept secrets -- a tale lowlighted by bantam-rooster ego, harsh locker-room words, and finally, Naked Greco-Roman Wrestling -- that could be a small part urban legend and a large part of The Lil’ General’s unfortunate legacy?

     Quote from Kerr on Phoenix’ ongoing coaching search: “I'm in charge of hiring the right person. … What's interesting is that there are no obvious candidates now. It's not like there are really prominent former head coaches out there.’’

    No "right persons''?  "No obvious candidates''? No "prominent former head coaches out there''?

    Yessir, that is interesting.

     We were long ago tipped to one of the reasons Kerr might have that view of Avery as a coach non grata: Steve Nash has a voice in that organization, just as Dirk Nowitzki has a voice in Dallas. Nash and Nowitzki are best friends who listen to each others’ voices. So when Nash is pitching in by doing his due diligence on coaching candidates, and he calls Dirk to find out what went down in Dallas. … well, you get the picture.

     And then there are X’s-and-O’s issues, and matters of “fit.’’

     But there might be another reason.

     According to the lore (and it seems most people inside the NBA know it, and chuckle about it), the year was 2000. Avery Johnson was a season removed from his finest moment, hitting that game-winning shot to help the Robinson/Duncan Spurs to a title. He will always get credit for being a vocal and inspirational leader of that team, but. …

     “This is MY team! This is MY team!’’ Avery squawked as he marched through the visitors’ locker room in Cleveland wearing nothing but a towel and too much pride. “This is MY team!’’

     He wasn’t really saying it to anyone. No one was really listening. It was, maybe, like Denzel Washington’s crooked cop at the end of “Training Day,’’  a defeated Alonzo Harris theatrically howling at the neighborhood that had finally endured enough of his sociopathic bullying.

     “Okay. Alright. I'm putting cases on all you b****s. Huh. You think you can do this s***... You think you can do this to me? You m************s will be playing basketball in Pelican Bay when I get finished with you. SHU program, n****s. 23-hour lockdown. I'm the man up in this piece. You'll never see the light of... who the f*** do you think you're f***** with? I'm the police, I run s*** around here. You just live here. Yeah, that's right, you better walk away. Go on and walk away... 'cause I'm gonna' burn this m*********** down. King Kong ain't got s*** on me. That's right, that's right. … I'm winning anyway, I'm winning... I'm winning any m***********  way. I can't lose. Yeah, you can shoot me, but you can't kill me.’’

     Now, imagine that in your ear. Only in a Cajun-flavored squeak.

    “This is MY team! This is MY team!’’

     Some would argue that Avery was simply flexing a familiar muscle, that using his emotion and his voice in that manner was commonplace and acceptable – certainly acceptable to coach Gregg Popovich, who’d anointed Avery as the admittedly effective surrogate eyes and ears (and mouth) of his roster.

     Others say Avery kind of snapped, maybe responding to the realization that making that shot in the NBA Finals game was his pinnacle as a player, and that there was no place to go but down.

     Whatever the motivation, a certain group – and by that we mean most of the Spurs players in that locker room that night in Cleveland not named David Robinson – had grown tired of Avery’s chest-thumping, ghetto-preaching, ego-pumping pin-and-needling, “This-Is-MY-Team’’ing form of leadership.

     Next thing you know, Malik Rose dogpiled Avery Johnson. They fought. In the locker room. Naked.

     Avery was fighting to represent himself. Malik pretty much represented everybody else.

“At the end, they all wanted him out of there,’’ says one NBA lifer who counts himself as a friend of Avery’s. “He grated on them. Bad. It was a matter of time before somebody finally shut him up.’’

     Robinson eventually interceded and broke up the brawl. Popovich interceded in his own way, too, later explaining that the disheveled room was the result of his anger.

     But it was all Avery. Avery being Avery. The Avery who got one measly scholarship offer, grudgingly accepted it, and twice led the NCAA in assists for Southern. The Avery who wasn’t drafted by the NBA, was frequently rejected by the NBA, and still, three decades later, is a champion as a player and a coach with an incredible .735 regular-season winning percentage.

     But he’s also a coach without a job, a leader without a team, a voice without a stage.

    What's going on here? Is Avery Johnson destined to be under the curse of Alonzo Harris? You know, coaching basketball in Pelican Bay?

   Avery Johnson deserves a tremendous amount of credit for building himself into an NBA force.  He would not be in a position to collect $4 million-a-year paychecks (from Mark Cuban or elsewhere,coaching or not) without his feistiness, his combativeness, his ego. But it’s that Michael Irvin philosophy all over again: “A man’s greatest strength is also his greatest weakness.’’

     There are two sides to every story, and in this one, Avery’s strength is one side. Avery’s weakness is the other. We're not saying this tale necessarily paints Avery in a newly horrid light, especially considering that, again, NBA insiders have long known the details of the brawl; we will opine that we don't have to portray Avery negatively inasmuch as he continues to make public statements that do a befuddlingly complete job of that all by himself. So much so, in fact, that even the needy Bulls seem to have somehow misplaced his phone number.

    Still, having considered both sides of the story and both sides of the man, aware only of Avery's faith-based "Aspire Higher'' reputation, would understandable ask: how does he not qualify to the Phoenix Suns as a “right person,’’ an “obvious candidate,’’ a “prominent former head coach’’?

     Well, you know who else was on that team, and in that room, listening to “The Lil’ General’s’’ Cajun cajoling, watching Avery play both sides of management and roster, hearing Avery harshly critique teammates, and then that night in Cleveland, observing as Avery cracked up just a little bit, the pressure getting to him and manifesting itself in Avery being administered a naked-on-the-floor locker-room beatdown?

     The future general manager of the Phoenix Suns, Steve Kerr, was on that team. And in that room.

 558pm may 17 2008