http://www.chron.com/cs/CDA/ssistory.mpl/sports/1838591 ------- Move represents sacrifice for the ultimate Rocket By FRAN BLINEBURY Copyright 2003 Houston Chronicle The building was packed and humming as if somebody had clanged a giant tuning fork right off the logo in the middle of the court. The air was hot and the drama thick enough to practically carve out a slice and place it on a serving plate. The Lakers were in town, fighting for their playoff positioning and to find the rhythm, the end-of-season momentum that will enable them to make a proper defense of their three consecutive championships. Shaq, Kobe, Phil and their regal, purple presence. The Rockets were back at home again, battling for their very playoff lives. Stevie, Cuttino, Yao and their fervid, frantic drive into the unknown. It is this kind of game for which Rudy Tomjanovich has always lived. Hell, that's not getting it right. For better than three decades now, Rudy T has lived for all kinds of games, any kind of game, as long as it involved the Rockets. Give him the cold, snowy nights in Cleveland or Detroit in January when the sparse number of fans in the stands looked like marbles rattling around in an empty bathtub. Give him the hot, spring evenings in Waco or San Antonio or any of the other places the itinerant Rockets called home during those early years after the move from the West Coast. Give him a clipboard and a pencil and a cramped seat in the stands at some little out of the way college gym in his immediate post-player days as a scout. Since Tomjanovich first joined the franchise in San Diego as a whiz-kid sharpshooter and No. 2 overall draft choice in 1970, the Rockets have been his team. His only team. And now, on a damp, gray morning in a dark, back hallway, just yards from where he celebrated a pair of hard-earned NBA titles, Rudy T was doing the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do for the Rockets. Leaving them. Tomjanovich will take a leave of absence, likely for the remainder of the season including any playoffs, to begin treatment for the cancerous tumor that was recently discovered on his bladder. "I think it's the best thing for the team," Rudy T said through a smile that was part forced and part relief. The clinical term for his condition is "transitional cell cancer of the bladder," and it will be treated topically over the coming weeks. But for all that means to the doctors who have painted a positive prognosis and expect a full recovery, to Rudy T, they might as well be opening up his chest and taking out his heart. He won't be on the bench directing the Rockets, won't be in the middle of practice instructing, won't be on the charter flights and in the hotels living and breathing with them. The Rockets are more than just his team. They are his life. There is likely nobody in the NBA outside of the Celtics' Red Auerbach who has had a longer, uninterrupted run with the same club. Tomjanovich has been with the organization for 33 of his 54 years. Hakeem Olajuwon is the stylistic epitome of success and the franchise icon. Rudy is the Rockets' loyal, laboring, blue-collar soul. Among current elite coaches, Phil Jackson played for the Knicks, then made his coaching reputation in Chicago before moving to the Lakers. Pat Riley, as coach alone, has been with the Lakers, Knicks and Heat. The last time Rudy T wasn't actively with the Rockets -- as a player, assistant coach or head coach -- was 2,601 games ago. Yet he knew this was the time to let go of the reins, for his own good and for the good of the team. With a dozen games left in the race for the final spot in the Western Conference playoffs, he knew his players couldn't afford the distraction of wondering about his health every time they looked up and saw him. He knew he couldn't honestly say his concentration would be 100 percent on the task 100 percent of the time while the word cancer rolled around in the back of his brain. You know the old saying: When you love something, sometimes you have to let it go. Rudy T loves the Rockets. That's why it was so difficult for him to sit at home during the just-completed five-game road trip. He couldn't watch the games on TV, couldn't bear being helpless and so many miles away. "I just didn't know what to do," he said. "So I've already planted stuff in the yard. My dogs hate to see me, because I take them for walks all of the time. They've lost weight. They're like, `Here he comes again.' And poor (wife) Sophie -- she's got me at home all the time." The players originally expected him to join them somewhere on the road trip and then fully anticipated that he'd be back on the bench against the Lakers. "When they told us to come in early today because Rudy wanted to talk to us, I thought, `Uh oh, I'm worrried,' " said Steve Francis, who played with the initials R.T. written on the side of his sneakers. "I know what he's doing. I know he's doing the hardest thing on himself to try to make this thing easier on us. "Man, I admire him for the way he always put this team, this franchise, first. But I couldn't look him in the face when he came to talk to us. I knew the sacrifice he was making. I could feel it coming from him without the words." Tomjanovich entered the locker room, sat down and, for once in his career, couldn't find the right words to say to his team. He mostly looked down at the floor as he talked. Told them they were in good hands with Larry Smith. Told them he wanted to get out of their way so they could focus on beating the Lakers. Told them to go ahead and nail down that playoff spot. Then, keeping his head down, never making eye contact, he rose, started walking and paused near the door. "I'm a Rocket," said Rudy T. Even when he isn't.
