THE NBA / MARK HEISLER : In the End, Nellie’s Era Was Too Far Gone

Is this farewell, Nellie, or only see you later?

The NBA never saw a fall as bad or a story as sad as Don Nelson’s. To understand how sorry his situation had become, this was Latrell Sprewell’s reaction to Nellie’s resignation:

“He brought it on himself.”

Sprewell, a humble 24th pick, might ask himself what other coach would have started him right away or given him as much freedom. On the other hand, a guy who keeps a pit bull around his children might not be very reflective.

Nelson’s goodby press conference was a masterpiece of contrition in which he said he “definitely deserved to be replaced,” seeming to acknowledge his resignation had been requested by owner Chris Cohan. “No one,” said a Bay Area newsman, “plays humble like Nellie.”

More likely, it was just another facet of this enigmatic man. There’s good, old humble Nellie; the modern proud Nellie; the intrigue-loving Machia-Nellie.

Where have we seen this pattern before? Unassuming ex-player gets into coaching, finds (to his surprise) he’s great at it, becomes increasingly ambitious, turns the pressure up on himself and everyone around him, gets strung out, loses it. It’s Pat Riley in Inglewood, Don Nelson in Oakland.

Pride may be a sin in church but in the NBA, miscalculation is the killer and it chopped down Nelson’s career, seemingly at its zenith.

Simply, he forgot the players are the program. The day he traded Chris Webber, the Warriors’ title hopes ended and he was on his way out.

Nelson had always insisted on “good people,” who, by definition, didn’t blab secrets. Trained by the ultimate conspirator, Red Auerbach, gently reared by the adoring Boston press, a legend in Milwaukee, he was never as comfortable in the more cosmopolitan Bay Area and had no frame of reference to deal with someone like Webber.

Webber was gifted, personable and bright. His brashness was probably the key to the Fab Five’s precocity at Michigan. He was also headstrong and defiant. In Detroit, he got rock-star treatment and reveled in it. His idea of a career model was Michael Jordan.

Webber had an unsophisticated game but plenty of ideas about it; he wasn’t a center but a power forward, even if he was bigger than Alonzo Mourning. At center he’d be in against Shaquille O’Neal. He wanted to be the monster in the matchup, to wheel and deal in the open court.

He also wanted to be treated with respect, or in other words, kid gloves.

Nelson, suddenly under attack by a 21-year-old who called in TV cameras to state his case, was flabbergasted.

He couldn’t bring himself to sit down with Webber, or to telephone him to work it out. He should have resigned as coach before trading Webber, as he’d said he would (before Webber correctly noted what a sham that was).

Superstars, actual or potential, are more precious even than genius coaches. When the superstars are 6-feet-10, well . . .

Nelson, unmatched in originality and vision, had never played for a title because he never had a moose like Webber. His best had been an aging Bob Lanier in Milwaukee when the Philadelphia 76ers had Moses Malone and the Celtics their Hall of Fame front line.

One compromise from the promised land, Nelson traded Webber for Tom Gugliotta, a nice player but not a dominating one who could plug up the middle for a bunch of smurfs.

Who knows what went through Nelson’s head that day? He had absolute power and it backfired, absolutely.

Another general manager would have made him sit down with Webber. And had Nellie been just the general manager, he wouldn’t have taken Webber’s foibles personally.

“I advised Nellie three years ago he should make a choice,” says Laker Coach Del Harris, Nelson’s assistant with the Bucks and another man who tried doing both jobs.

“You need the other person in the operation. When you’re both guys, it’s hard to do.”

George Shirk of the San Francisco Chronicle once compared this saga to “King Lear,” invoking an image of Nelson standing on a stage with bodies strewn around him. In truth, this is less like a sports story, more like Shakespearean tragedy.

Of course, Nellie has just pocketed around $5 million and is at his home on Maui. These are plot developments even the Bard would have struggled with.

One way or another, Nelson will be fine. With all the endangered coaches--Chris Ford, Allan Bristow, Gene Littles, Don Chaney, Alvin Gentry--who knows how long he’ll be away?

In about 15 seconds, you should be hearing the first rumor out of Boston: Nellie for general manager?

The Warriors are the ones in trouble. They can’t go to Maui. They’re leaderless. They were assembled to play Nellieball and Nellie’s gone.

Interim Coach Lanier, a longshot himself, was asked last week about waiving Manute Bol, a routine transaction that had only happened to Nutey four times before.

Lanier said to check with the public relations office for a comment. He didn’t want to say anything that could be construed as disrespectful.

An era was so far gone, it was as if it had never been.

MEANWHILE, IN OUR NATION’S CAPITAL . . .

The Washington Bullets, 8-31 since trading for Webber, opened the second half with a victory at Minnesota.

“It’s definitely a new season,” said Webber. “We have a tough road ahead but we’re going to give it our all, no matter what.”

Webber has promised Bullet officials he’ll work on his game over the summer. They want him to go to Pete Newell’s big man’s camp, an obvious move for a player who lacks the fundamentals of post play. Remember, O’Neal, who was bashed so much, attended before each of his first two seasons.

Webber has yet to commit himself. He says he has a chance to make a rap record.

FACES AND FIGURES

David Moore of the Dallas Morning News on Roy Tarpley’s toe injury, suffered when he dropped a canister of water on it: “We’ve had drugs. We’ve had alcohol. We’ve had tendinitis in the knee. Now we have Ozarka.” . . . Maverick Coach Dick Motta, predicting one more coaching change: “I refer to it as the Four F’s--four by February.” . . . Motta on coaching: “Doctors bury their mistakes. We rehash them on Monday. Kevin Loughery once said to me, ‘You know, we’re like drug addicts. We’re awful. We keep coming back.’ Coaching is an addiction. A high. No one can experience my high of bringing 12 high-priced egos together to perform as a unit.”

Loughery, the beloved dinosaur, who was kicking back as an assistant with the Atlanta Hawks in 1991 when the Heat prevailed on him to take over again, had been dangling since spring and was finally fired by new General Manager Dave Wohl--who got his first assistant’s job from Kevin with the Nets. . . . Wohl coached his first game when Loughery, a noted referee baiter, was ejected. “Remember, Kevin’s my only role model,” said Wohl. “We go to Houston and Hugh Evans is officiating. I look up at the team fouls on the scoreboard and it’s 1-0, 2-0, 3-0, 4-0 and finally 5-0. I’m screaming at Hugh, ‘Look at that! It’s 5-0! It’s 5-0!’ Hugh walks over real quiet and says, ‘Dave, the five is on them.’ ”

The Seattle SuperSonics are in a mild panic at the thought of meeting the Lakers in the playoffs, having lost all three meetings this season. Said Nate McMillan, “They do exactly the same thing to us the (Denver) Nuggets did. They have great quickness with their smaller guys and kill our traps. And they have that shot blocking (the Lakers have 31 blocks in the three games) that builds their confidence and kills ours. We’ve got to straighten this out fast.” Said Kendall Gill, “Obviously it’s a bad matchup. They’ve got two or three seven-footers inside and we don’t have anyone taller than 6-10. A problem? Yeah, it’s a problem.” Or, in other words, watch out Lakers, at Seattle Monday night.

Last fall, the Chicago Bulls turned down an offer from the Bullets of rookie Juwan Howard, Calbert Cheaney and a No. 1 pick for Scottie Pippen but it’s not on the table anymore. Howard has averaged 17 points and nine rebounds since becoming a starter Dec. 17. Cheaney averaged 18 points in that time. . . . “The Bulls were my favorite team,” said Howard, “guys like Gene Banks, Dave Corzine, Granville Waiters. It would have been wonderful. But the Bulls just didn’t want Juwan Howard. Some people told me that (General Manager) Jerry Krause said I’d never be an impact player in this league, that I wasn’t going to be able to play at the next level, that I was a below-the-rim player. People are entitled to their opinion but someday people are going to wake up and realize Juwan Howard is a great kid, a workhorse, a competitor who loves the game of basketball.”

Hawk player-representative Jon Koncak says the union and the league are closing ground on key issues: replacing the current “soft” cap, which allows teams to re-sign their own free agents at any figure, with an absolute “hard” cap; raising the cap from $16 million to about $22 million; putting a separate cap on rookie salaries; increasing the players’ share of licensing money. Comment: Hooray!. . . . The Houston Rockets, down to No. 6 in the West, couldn’t believe the turn of fortune that gave them Clyde Drexler, a great player as well as a local favorite, for Otis Thorpe, a decent power forward. “You look at trades and the salary cap and it’s hard to make things happen,” said Coach Rudy Tomjanovich. “It’s almost a miracle situation.” . . . On the other hand: It usually takes teams a season to straighten everything out--like mellowing out Vernon Maxwell who just lost his starting job while on his 10-game suspension. Mad Max’s reaction isn’t known since he blew off two practices last week. His last public comment: “Get the . . . out of my face.”

I’m not making excuses for Charles Barkley, who has made racially inappropriate remarks before, but the outcry over his “hate white people” joke is just that--a joke. Barkley’s wife is white. . . . Lenny Bruce would be proud: Charlie, being Charlie, is sticking with his material. After last week’s victory over the Blazers, he told reporters, “I’ll do whatever you say. I don’t want to make the white man mad.”