Chron: Brown a study in contrasts

Brown is a study in contrasts

By JOHN P. LOPEZ
Copyright 2003 Houston Chronicle

When Detroit gets Larry Brown instead of the Rockets -- or perhaps better put, Larry Brown chooses the Pistons over the Rockets -- you can be assured of two things.

Life there will be better. And it will be different.

Like the song says, it's something unpredictable. But in the end there's right.

Detroit is expected to name Brown as its new coach Monday, and that's bad news for the Rockets and the other teams around the league still looking. Because for all the things you might have heard about Brown, this man is right.

He has been called nomadic, eccentric, odd. And sure, at times those words fit.

Players have loved him and despised him, often at the same time. He has done unconventional things at unlikely times, like hiring his yard man to be the team's security guard, or scheduling off-day practices in Las Vegas.

General managers and club presidents have been pushed to the brink by Brown's constant pursuit of perfection, often confusing his chase for the rings with eccentricity.

Brown never wants his teams standing still, nor does he ever want to be still himself. He is constantly wanting to trade underperforming players, or asking that they be signed to extensions.

He is at times insufferable, at times the warmest person you ever would want to know. He is a bit of a hypochondriac, a bit of an expert on everything.

He is the smartest basketball mind in the game, and at the same time humble and insecure about his talents almost beyond imagination.

He is nostalgic, revering the basketball greats and the timeless moments -- particularly those from his American Basketball Association glory days. Yet he is oblivious to his accomplishments, downplaying them and often literally shrugging when asked about so many wins and so much success.

He is a throwback. But he is understanding of contemporary players and how the latest generation lives and plays.

He is a little of this, a little of that. And all of the above.

The stories you have heard about Brown are true. He does do things a bit differently. He does see things from a different, often off-center perspective. He is unlike any other coaching personality.

But never have I come across an NBA coach who knows more or cares more about the game and its players than Brown.

In 1988, a young reporter was on the NBA beat for the first time. The Spurs had just hired Brown from Kansas, the marquee coach fresh off a memorable national championship run.

Over the next couple of years, the ride was memorable and enlightening for the reporter, and the moments unforgettable. This was an era when beat writers traveled with the team on buses, to practices and on planes.

With an all-access pass to Life with Larry, I couldn't help but soak in the sights, sounds and styles of maybe the best -- and occasionally most misrepresented -- coach in the NBA.

That whole "nomadic" thing was alive and kicking in 1988. When he arrived in town, mariachis trumpeted in his arrival, as city officials handed Brown a plate full of guacamole -- a sort of South Texas version of an olive branch.

Years before in the ABA, Spurs fans had dumped guacamole on Brown's head as he went through the tunnel after a heated Nuggets-Spurs playoff game. As Nuggets coach, Brown had said, "The only thing I like about San Antonio is the Mexican food."

He had coached at UCLA, Carolina of the ABA, Denver of the ABA, New Jersey, Kansas. He was tired of seeing "nomadic" associated with his name in print and despised being called a hired gun.

Then why move so often?

"Every time I go somewhere," Brown said once, "I feel like it's the best place for me at that time."

He craves challenges, which are abundant in the game, and there's always a new one right around the corner. Yet at the same time, he wants security and consistency, a place to put down some roots, which are not at all abundant.

That's why Brown often surrounds himself with people he knows well. If he trusts a friend or a player, he is remarkably devoted.

He puts people he can trust into jobs that might seem well out of their league -- like the yard man he turned into a security guard, and his personal "broadcast producer" he brought from Kansas to San Antonio.

If he cannot have familiar territory, he wants familiar faces.

Brown was roundly criticized for that first coaching staff he put together in San Antonio. He was called everything short of crazy for hiring such a seemingly overmatched lot of coaches.

He brought in the father of his star player at Kansas, Danny Manning, to be the director of scouting. He brought in some no-name from Pomona-Pitzer College who had never coached at any level higher than NCAA Division III.

He brought in some blue-blooded former graduate assistant from Kansas, said to be along for the ride because he was Brown's jogging and golfing partner. And he brought in some other assistant with little coaching pedigree, other than holding down the end of the bench at Kansas.

But today, Ed Manning remains in the game long after his son's shelf life has expired. The no-name from Pomona-Pitzer was Gregg Popovich, who has one NBA championship ring and is working on another.

The golfing buddy was R.C. Buford, now Spurs general manager and one of the architects of a team that went 60-22 this season. And the other no-name assistant was Alvin Gentry, who has gone on to a pair of NBA head coaching gigs.

Brown might go about things differently. But in the end, there's right.

His first team in San Antonio was one of the worst in NBA history. It was a motley cast of characters and NBA nobodies, including the likes of Jerome Whitehead, Dallas Comegys, Mike Smrek, Scott Roth, Albert King and David Greenwood. It went 21-61, Brown eventually calling most of the victories "lucky."

Put it this way: The acknowledged glue for that 1988-89 team were rookies Willie Anderson and Vernon Maxwell. Yes, that Vernon Maxwell.

Over the course of that first season, Brown nearly resigned three or four times, demanded trades about 100 times and saw many strange things and different types of hangers-on.

Charlie Sheen, in his partying heyday, was a friend of Frank Brickowski's and often went on trips with the team, smoking in the back of the airplane and passing bottles of vodka to players.

A few players were late to one game in Miami, because they had rented a powerboat and were speeding around Biscayne Bay for six hours during the heat of the day.

A couple of other players once stepped out of a cab after a night of partying and stepped onto the team bus headed for practice. It was 8 a.m.

There was a fistfight in the locker room in Utah, another during practice in San Antonio, shouting matches everywhere and a hotel fire in Indiana at 2 a.m. one night, causing everyone to evacuate.

After about an hour of standing in the parking lot as firefighters put out the small blaze, with most players and coaches wearing shorts and T-shirts, out walked Comegys.

Comegys was dressed in suit and tie, carrying all his luggage. A look of disbelief crossed Brown's face.

"What are you doing, Dallas?" Brown said.

"That hotel might burn up," Comegys said, "but not with my good suits in there."

"This is the stuff I have to put up with," Brown said later. "This team is hopeless."

One year later, the Spurs were in Game 7 of the Western Conference semifinals.

Things are different with Larry Brown. But eventually, they are better. Much better.