Part II. The Pistons

The Pistons.

Sure, they got off to a fast start this season, but does anybody really seriously believe the Detroit hoopsters are anywhere near contenders?

It seemed almost inevitable they would come crashing back to earth -- and they have -- having lost 7 of their last 8.

Only because the Eastern Conference of the NBA is such a weak sister when compared to the West, will the Pistons likely hover around the playoff cut-off line. They might get in as a seventh of eighth seed, only to get blown out in the first round of the post-season by a club like Boston or Cleveland.

One must remember this is the same franchise that gave Andre Drummond a "max" contract. That's right. He's getting paid roughly the same amount of do-re-mi that players like Lebron James, Kevin Durant, Steph Curry, and James Hardin are making. The latter are super-stars. Meanwhile, Andre Drummond is basically useless more than 4 feet away from the basket -- on either end of the floor -- offensively or defensively. No decent jump shot, continues to shoot free throws like a blind man, a pitiful defender away from the rim, and his ball handling skills could be likened to those of a bull elephant trying to play the piano.

Only in Detroit could a guy like Stan VanGundy be the president of basketball operations and head coach at the same time, with two -- count-em TWO -- general managers in between. So who's in charge of who? Nobody seems to know.

And what give with dear Stan taking all the blame for the Pistons' poor play? Hey, there comes a time to call a spade a spade. Stan's not playing the game. The players are. So if they're stinking it up on the court, then just say so.

The Pistons even have a guy named Reggie Jackson on their roster. What? No Willie Mays, Bob Gibson, or Mickey Mantle? Maybe they'll find a way to get a couple of those next on the payroll. Don't put it past them. Sheesh.

Relatively new owner Tom Gores overpaid for the Pistons to late owner Bill Davidson's widow Karen. She was no doubt happy. And as part of the deal, Gores acquired a world class facility -- the Palace of Auburn Hills, which had been completely paid for by his predecessor out of his own pockets. This arena was/is located in a prime location. A crime free suburb with easy in and out access, and the interstate I-75, that fed into other major highways just a couple blocks away. Further, Mr. Gores invested somewhere around $10-15 million bucks of his own money to provide this already superb venue with a few upgrades.

So what did he do?

Turned right around and moved his team back to Detroit. Yep, the same crime-ridden, blighted metropolis it's been for decades. Where he has to, incredibly, pay RENT. Does this make sense?

Fair enough that the brand new sparkling Little Caesar's Arena, originally built for the Detroit Red Wings, is in the "Fox" district, which is pretty much like the "Green Zone" in Iraq America carved out after invading same over WMDs that turned out not to exist. Oops. (Hey, what's a few billion bucks and a few thousand lives -- right?) It's safe alright, once one gets there, but wander just a block or two outside the perimeter, and folks will find themselves right back in very dangerous territory, where the "natives" remain, shall we say, restless, perhaps even life, limb, and car threatening.

Meanwhile, nobody seems to know what will become of the Palace. Sure, it might still a host a rock or country band here or there, but chances are the magnificent facility will go to seed in the future. And that's a colossal waste whose blame will fall squarely at the feet of the above-mentioned Tom Gores. Given his evident wrong-footed approach and botching of the whole scenario in recent times, one is left to ask the question -- how in the hell did this guy get so rich to begin with?

But then one has to remember only one thing.

It's Detroit.

That city is just about enough to make anybody go off their proverbial rocker.