Scratch, claw, repeat: the Spurs and Pistons have built perennial contenders in an unorthodox way—with unheralded players who are long on effort, resiliency and heart

Sporting News, The, July 1, 2005 by Sean Deveney

At one point in The Finals, the Spurs put a team on the floor that included this motley bunch of players: an undrafted veteran of the CBA, a big man who had been discarded by the lottery-bound Knicks and Hawks, a mop-topped fellow who was drafted with the 57th pick six years ago (just after Kris Clack and Tim Young) and a ballhandler who'd been passed over in favor of point guard luminaries Joe Forte, Jeryl Sasser and Raul Lopez.

The Pistons countered with their own mishmash of piteously pedigreed players: an undrafted big man, a guard who'd been through six teams in eight years and a rail-thin forward who'd dropped to 23rd in the draft despite a stellar college career.

Actually, the two teams had those players on the floor at several points in each game of The Finals--including tipoff. These are two teams that have made good because of their ability to overlook a bad rap.

"I think, because of where a lot of us have come from, and had to work through, I think that helps dictate the way we play," says Pistons forward Tayshaun Prince (picked at No. 23 by Detroit after starring at Kentucky). "Everybody had to put up with a lot just to be here, so now, no one has an ego. We're just trying to do our jobs."

"It does seem like everybody on these two teams," says Spurs center Nazr Mohammed (the New York-Atlanta castaway), "has got a long story to tell."

Admittedly, throughout the NBA, there are dozens of players with long stories, guys who have endured slights and challenges--from draft-night injustices to overseas career stops. But it's strange to see the two teams in The Finals featuring rosters--and even starting lineups--packed with such cases. What's more, the Spurs and Pistons not only rely on such players, they are defined by those players' resiliency. As a grueling Finals played out, with San Antonio delivering crushing double-digit wins in Games 1 and 2 on its home floor and Detroit rallying with just-as-crushing blows on its home floor in Games 3 and 4, that resiliency took center stage in a Game 5 nail-biter the Spurs won in overtime.

"These two teams have a lot of guys who have been written off," says Pistons guard Richard Hamilton. "For us, we like that. We like being written off; we thrive on it. Never underestimate the heart of a champion. Isn't that what they say?"

They do, Rip, and your Pistons showed that heart in Games 3 and 4. In the blowout losses in San Antonio, Detroit was on its heels, giving Spurs big man Tim Duncan room to set up in the low post. That allowed the Spurs to work their inside-out offense efficiently, with Duncan scoring and setting up Manu Ginobili (that No. 57 pick) for 3-pointers and unchecked drives to the rim. Ginobili shot 66.7 percent in the first two games.

But things changed in Detroit as the Pistons' guards pressured the ball in the backcourt, slowing the Spurs' offense. The big men forced Duncan farther from the basket, and the guards slapped at the ball when Duncan caught it. At one point, the start of the fourth quarter in Game 3, Duncan had the ball stripped in the lane by Pistons sparkplug guard Lindsey Hunter and simply stood, eyes wide-open, arms spread in an exasperated shrug. "It's just frustrating," Duncan says.

Frustration, though, is what the Pistons do best. Same for the Spurs. Over the past few years, each team has collected a group of ego-free players, ones willing to put in the work of harassing, haranguing and hounding opponents into submission. Little wonder, then, that the Spurs were No. 1 in overall defense this season and the Pistons were No. 2. "When you have guys who had to scratch and claw just to get into the league," says Spurs forward Robert Horry, "they're going to scratch and claw when they get out on the floor."

That has been the formula for both the Spurs and the Pistons. The front offices of both teams have a strong sense of the type of basketball they want played and consistently bring in scrappy (yet talented) players who fit their systems. Those players boosted the Spurs to a championship in 2003 and did the same for Detroit in 2004. True, the 2005 Finals has star players--Hamilton averaged more than 20 points in the playoffs, and Duncan is a two-time MVP. But as The Finals scratched and clawed its way back to San Antonio, it was clear that the two teams shared an identity founded on toughness, resilience and the ability to give foes nasty headaches--and it was equally clear that, because of that foundation, these two franchises will be in position for return trips to The Finals for the rest of the decade.

Antonio McDyess was flattered. There he was, in the summer of 2004, being courted by the defending NBA champions. Most had assumed his career had flickered out after he tore a tendon in his knee and later shattered his kneecap--he'd had three surgeries, would soon be 30 and hadn't played a full season since 1999-2000. He did log 24 games with Phoenix last season, though, and had caught the attention of a handful of league executives. One was Pistons president Joe Dumars, who put off sleep so he could watch McDyess' performances. "He would stay up till 2 a.m. his time because I was playing out West," McDyess says. "He said he watched them all and that he wanted me on the team. I'm thinking, 'Is this really Joe Dumars?'