Post by TheShadow on Dec 3, 2003 21:30:10 GMT -5
msnbc.com
More than ever, teams won’t stand up to athletes, so they fire coaches
By Michael Ventre
Until recently, it was an accepted fact that Bill Callahan answered to one boss, the uncompromising Al Davis. When Davis yelled, “Jump!” Callahan not only answered, “How high?” but did so in mid-air. Of course, time marches on, and with it often goes the old-fashioned way of doing things.
IT HAS BECOME OBVIOUS lately that the chain of command has changed. Callahan doesn’t answer simply to Davis, but to a horde of his underlings. The most vocal among the middle managers known as the Oakland Raiders has been cornerback Charles Woodson, but really, the task is open to any player willing to proclaim his dissatisfaction with his head coach.
Nowadays, if you’re a professional athlete and you want a coach fired, you don’t even need to start a paper trail on him. All you have to do is trash him publicly until the din becomes intolerable and his fate becomes inevitable.
Granted, Callahan is probably sealing his own fate with the atrocious performance of a team that is one year removed from a Super Bowl appearance, and by his proclamation Sunday that he presides over “the dumbest team in America.” Somebody probably should have reminded Callahan that after moving back to Oakland from L.A., everyone in the Raiders organization is especially touchy about being called dumb.
But Callahan’s current untenable situation is just one example of the increasing incidences of insubordination and/or interference by players that can often determine the fate of a head coach.
In Orlando, Doc Rivers — NBA coach of the year in 2000 — was asked to leave when the Magic tanked the start of the current season, but his ouster was in no small part due to the passive-aggressive efforts toward that end by Tracy McGrady. McGrady didn’t come out and rip his coach, but then again, he didn’t come out and do much of anything. His lack of character and willingness to roll over until management was forced into a move was tantamount to packing Rivers’ bags.
In New Jersey, Byron Scott is gone. Oh, they might make chirpings to the contrary in the Nets’ front office, but Jason Kidd wants him gone, so he’s gone. They just haven’t composed the press release yet. In Chicago, guys such as Jamal Crawford refused to acknowledge the authority of Bill Cartwright, hence his departure. In Denver, the Broncos’ Daryl Gardener blasted his coach, Mike Shanahan, and although Gardener may have lost the battle, he could still win the war if his tantrums are deemed indicative of Shanahan’s loss of control.
And let’s not forget Keyshawn Johnson. Sure, he suffered humiliation after being deactivated by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, but his intentions were clear. He wanted to defeat Jon Gruden in a war over control of the team, and only the deep commitment by the Bucs to Gruden in the form of the draft picks and salary they paid in order to wrest him from the Raiders rendered Keyshawn’s power play impotent.
The reason for all this is obvious: cash.
Generally speaking, it’s cheaper to oust a coach than it is to cut a star player. Since the players know this, they stop acting like players and start acting like coaches. In other words, they exercise their power, which they receive when they sign lucrative contracts. They may look like malcontents for a time, but in the long run, they get their way because they know they are more indispensable to management than some retired player with a suit and a clipboard.
Most denizens of the front office don’t have the guts to stand up to star players. Take the Nets. What Rod Thorn, president of the Nets, should have done is tell Kidd that Scott led the franchise to back-to-back appearances in the NBA Finals, and for doing so, he’s getting a contract extension. What’s more, he should have told Kidd that no, we’re not signing Alonzo Mourning to a four-year deal without giving him a physical simply because he’s a buddy of yours.
But Thorn and the Nets caved on both counts. As a result, Mourning is finished, the Nets are on the hook for his contract, and Scott will get canned anyway. This happened because the Nets are so desperate to build a fan base from an indifferent suburban populace that they were willing to let one player orchestrate the team’s entire future. (And by the way, the Nets are below .500).
The Bulls brought in Scott Skiles under the presumption that the same spoiled brats who shoved Cartwright out the door will somehow benefit from having a hard-nosed taskmaster in his place. But even though the Bulls got rid of disgruntled Jalen Rose and acquired veterans Jerome Williams and Antonio Davis to go along with Scottie Pippen, their future still revolves around the development of selfish kids such as Crawford, Tyson Chandler and Eddy Curry. That means even though he just took over, Skiles’ days are already numbered.
Bruce Smith of the Redskins popped off recently. He was unhappy with the way he was being used, so he took his case to the fans and the owner. Why didn’t he keep it between himself and coach Steve Spurrier? Because Smith is a savvy veteran, and he understands the value of timing.
Rumors are intensifying that Spurrier’s tenure with the team will soon end, so what better opportunity for a player to enhance his own personal situation than when a coach is vulnerable? Smith should be thankful he can still get his pads on without pulling a hamstring, and owner Dan Snyder should have given Smith the Keyshawn treatment rather than allow him to undermine his hand-picked and much-ballyhooed coach.
The Portland Trail Blazers deserve a little credit for striking a minor blow against this onslaught of incorrigible charges when they traded societal misfit Bonzi Wells to Memphis on Wednesday. But only a little, since the Blazers have long fostered an atmosphere that is infamous for coddling law-breakers and miscreants and putting up with delinquent behavior so long as they received points and rebounds in return.
As for Callahan, that mutiny shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Davis always has worshipped players while treating coaches with disdain, because in Davis’s mind, no coach could ever measure up to him in terms of football know-how. When he’s had a willful head coach, like Gruden or Shanahan, he butted heads with them before showing them the door. When he’s had guys such as Art Shell and now Callahan, he got mediocrity and dissension in return.
Davis is not only a culprit in creating an atmosphere where the inmates run the asylum, he was a pioneer in that effort.
Now, it seems, other teams across the landscape of professional sports have followed his example, and we’re all a little poorer for it.
More than ever, teams won’t stand up to athletes, so they fire coaches
By Michael Ventre
Until recently, it was an accepted fact that Bill Callahan answered to one boss, the uncompromising Al Davis. When Davis yelled, “Jump!” Callahan not only answered, “How high?” but did so in mid-air. Of course, time marches on, and with it often goes the old-fashioned way of doing things.
IT HAS BECOME OBVIOUS lately that the chain of command has changed. Callahan doesn’t answer simply to Davis, but to a horde of his underlings. The most vocal among the middle managers known as the Oakland Raiders has been cornerback Charles Woodson, but really, the task is open to any player willing to proclaim his dissatisfaction with his head coach.
Nowadays, if you’re a professional athlete and you want a coach fired, you don’t even need to start a paper trail on him. All you have to do is trash him publicly until the din becomes intolerable and his fate becomes inevitable.
Granted, Callahan is probably sealing his own fate with the atrocious performance of a team that is one year removed from a Super Bowl appearance, and by his proclamation Sunday that he presides over “the dumbest team in America.” Somebody probably should have reminded Callahan that after moving back to Oakland from L.A., everyone in the Raiders organization is especially touchy about being called dumb.
But Callahan’s current untenable situation is just one example of the increasing incidences of insubordination and/or interference by players that can often determine the fate of a head coach.
In Orlando, Doc Rivers — NBA coach of the year in 2000 — was asked to leave when the Magic tanked the start of the current season, but his ouster was in no small part due to the passive-aggressive efforts toward that end by Tracy McGrady. McGrady didn’t come out and rip his coach, but then again, he didn’t come out and do much of anything. His lack of character and willingness to roll over until management was forced into a move was tantamount to packing Rivers’ bags.
In New Jersey, Byron Scott is gone. Oh, they might make chirpings to the contrary in the Nets’ front office, but Jason Kidd wants him gone, so he’s gone. They just haven’t composed the press release yet. In Chicago, guys such as Jamal Crawford refused to acknowledge the authority of Bill Cartwright, hence his departure. In Denver, the Broncos’ Daryl Gardener blasted his coach, Mike Shanahan, and although Gardener may have lost the battle, he could still win the war if his tantrums are deemed indicative of Shanahan’s loss of control.
And let’s not forget Keyshawn Johnson. Sure, he suffered humiliation after being deactivated by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, but his intentions were clear. He wanted to defeat Jon Gruden in a war over control of the team, and only the deep commitment by the Bucs to Gruden in the form of the draft picks and salary they paid in order to wrest him from the Raiders rendered Keyshawn’s power play impotent.
The reason for all this is obvious: cash.
Generally speaking, it’s cheaper to oust a coach than it is to cut a star player. Since the players know this, they stop acting like players and start acting like coaches. In other words, they exercise their power, which they receive when they sign lucrative contracts. They may look like malcontents for a time, but in the long run, they get their way because they know they are more indispensable to management than some retired player with a suit and a clipboard.
Most denizens of the front office don’t have the guts to stand up to star players. Take the Nets. What Rod Thorn, president of the Nets, should have done is tell Kidd that Scott led the franchise to back-to-back appearances in the NBA Finals, and for doing so, he’s getting a contract extension. What’s more, he should have told Kidd that no, we’re not signing Alonzo Mourning to a four-year deal without giving him a physical simply because he’s a buddy of yours.
But Thorn and the Nets caved on both counts. As a result, Mourning is finished, the Nets are on the hook for his contract, and Scott will get canned anyway. This happened because the Nets are so desperate to build a fan base from an indifferent suburban populace that they were willing to let one player orchestrate the team’s entire future. (And by the way, the Nets are below .500).
The Bulls brought in Scott Skiles under the presumption that the same spoiled brats who shoved Cartwright out the door will somehow benefit from having a hard-nosed taskmaster in his place. But even though the Bulls got rid of disgruntled Jalen Rose and acquired veterans Jerome Williams and Antonio Davis to go along with Scottie Pippen, their future still revolves around the development of selfish kids such as Crawford, Tyson Chandler and Eddy Curry. That means even though he just took over, Skiles’ days are already numbered.
Bruce Smith of the Redskins popped off recently. He was unhappy with the way he was being used, so he took his case to the fans and the owner. Why didn’t he keep it between himself and coach Steve Spurrier? Because Smith is a savvy veteran, and he understands the value of timing.
Rumors are intensifying that Spurrier’s tenure with the team will soon end, so what better opportunity for a player to enhance his own personal situation than when a coach is vulnerable? Smith should be thankful he can still get his pads on without pulling a hamstring, and owner Dan Snyder should have given Smith the Keyshawn treatment rather than allow him to undermine his hand-picked and much-ballyhooed coach.
The Portland Trail Blazers deserve a little credit for striking a minor blow against this onslaught of incorrigible charges when they traded societal misfit Bonzi Wells to Memphis on Wednesday. But only a little, since the Blazers have long fostered an atmosphere that is infamous for coddling law-breakers and miscreants and putting up with delinquent behavior so long as they received points and rebounds in return.
As for Callahan, that mutiny shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Davis always has worshipped players while treating coaches with disdain, because in Davis’s mind, no coach could ever measure up to him in terms of football know-how. When he’s had a willful head coach, like Gruden or Shanahan, he butted heads with them before showing them the door. When he’s had guys such as Art Shell and now Callahan, he got mediocrity and dissension in return.
Davis is not only a culprit in creating an atmosphere where the inmates run the asylum, he was a pioneer in that effort.
Now, it seems, other teams across the landscape of professional sports have followed his example, and we’re all a little poorer for it.