Real time

Sporting News, The, April 21, 1997 by Dave D'Alessandro

Preparing for the second season comes down to 72 hours of concentrated, painstaking search for that extra edge

This is the time of year when Pat Riley assembles his team to discuss citrus fruits. it's only partly whimsical. At least that's what the players think. when Riley looks them in their 24 eyes and asks the eternal question: "What do you get when you squeeze an orange?"

And just as they begin to look at him as if he has come to work wearing a pompadour, the winningest coach in NBA playoff history answers his own question: "Orange juice." he says.

You get orange juice, he explains, because that's what's inside an orange. Put anything or anyone under pressure, and you'll bring out what's inside it or them--good or bad. "And the NBA playoffs are maximum pressure time," he tells them. "They call it `The Second Season.' People who ignored basketball all winter suddenly tune in to every broadcast. Every game is sold out. The fans rock the house. Lots of prize money is at stake. Most of all, the privilege of calling yourselves champions is on the line."

Before the 1997 postseason begins, the NBA head coach has about three days to impart such a message--only 72 hours to prepare his players for the ultimate challenge of their profession, and all the effort, intensity and anxiety that go with it.

It is a heady time. Teams with championship aspirations feel the pressure of having to prove themselves all over again. Teams that play them are trying to prove the regular season was irrelevant. And the teams between those two extremes are trying to leave their footprints on a season in which they'd otherwise be a footnote.

"The entire key to those 72 hours is that you have so much more time to prepare for one opponent," Cavaliers coach Mike Fratello says. "That break is like nothing else during the season. It's not four games in five nights in five cities. It's one team, one focus. It gives you a chance to prepare more thoroughly than you have ever prepared before, it gives you a chance to recover from injuries, and it gives you a chance to wipe clean whatever happened during the season. Mostly, it's a chance for your players to direct their energies at a higher level."

The early part of next week will not be, as some might believe, downtime. The time spent preparing for the playoffs is the best of times for some, the most industrious time for many, and the most intense time for all of them. But for five types of men in particular, it is like no other time of the year.

The concierge

During prep week, many coaches prefer to get away from it all--the local media, the distraction of family, the myopic spotlight that comes with celebrity life in the big city. So they pack their gear the day after the regular season ends and find a venue suitable for three days of male bonding.

Usually, that venue has: 1) a small college, with 2) a luxury hotel within walking distance and 3) virtually nothing to do at night.

"I did it a couple of times, and I liked it," former Pistons coach and current Turner Sports analyst Chuck Daly says. "But ultimately I decided we traveled enough, and that I had better control when they were home. I liked it when they were home--with their wife or their own woman. Because no matter where you go, the road has too many temptations, you know."

Most teams stay within a 100-mile radius, just so they don't transform three days of quality time into three days of perpetual motion. The Hornets, for example, take a two-hour drive from Charlotte to Boone, N.C., the home of Appalachian State University, where former Hornets assistant coach and current Hawks aide Bill Hanzlik says, "You have to look real hard to find trouble." (Aside to Anthony Mason: Bring a book.) The Knicks, on the other hand, return to the site of their preseason camp, 760 miles away in Charleston, S.C.

Some coaches subscribe to this rule: Your players can stand to spend a few days away from home, as long as you begin the playoffs at home. But if you open on the road, it could mean a full week of unfamiliar beds and room service.

"You only do it if you have the time," Hawks coach Lenny Wilkens says. "You need at least two solid practice days, with no travel--you don't want to spend time getting all the way there, then coming all the way back, and getting just one practice in. But it's nice, just to get away from local distractions. So we go to Armstrong State College."

And what are the primary attractions at the Savannah, Gal, school? "Nothing that I know of," Wilkens says, smiling. "That's the general idea."

The scout

In the spring of 1994, the year they reached the NBA Finals, the Knicks set a record for the most games played in a season--107. What made this schedule even more numbing, however, was that at times their preparation time for a playoff opponent was reduced to a single day It was during that postseason that Jeff Nix proved himself invaluable.

Nix is what you call an advance scout. In '94, he saw an estimated 25 playoff games in 25 days--compiling, filing, faxing and e-mailing copious reports on prospective opponents so the team could be ready for any eventuality. When asked at the time how his team could make such a quick turnaround from one opponent to the next, Riley said it was because of Nix.