Built to Lose - Deleted Scenes - I
Nikola Vučević and the wrath of Doug Collins, Orlando's divorce with Dwight Howard, Caron Butler's rookie hazing of Giannis Antetokounmpo, and a snippet of Sacramento Kings palace intrigue.
Hey there, thanks for stopping by.
My name is Jake Fischer. I’m a former Sports Illustrated NBA reporter and current Bleacher Report contributor. If you’re here, you probably know my first book, ‘Built to Lose: How the NBA’s Tanking Era Changed the League Forever’ will be out May 4. It covers Hinkie’s Sixers, the post-Big Three Celtics, old Kobe’s Lakers, plus several others. And if you subscribe to this newsletter, you’ll receive a 30% discount code for pre-order!
We’re so close to pub day, but still kinda far, right? The support has been awesome, and my sincerest appreciation to everyone who’s cheered us along the way. So to help fill this three-month void—and shamelessly drum up a little more excitement—I wanted to share some details from my reporting that won’t be in those pages.
Few writers find it challenging to scribble at length, after all. For a task that requires a lot of solitude, we sure have a lot to say. With reporting, it’s far easier to include everything than withhold some precious, uncovered pearl. But then on your second draft, and maybe you don’t even realize it until your fourth, that “pearl” reveals itself as nothing but an ancillary detail, and one that might just distract the reader from your story’s actual arc. Or it might just be a pebble of crap.
Below, you’ll find a few of those extra tidbits. I think you’ll find them more of the ancillary than crappy type. There’s a bunch to come in the following weeks (the second installment on 2/17 will be all about LeBron and his remarkable memory). Thanks again for tuning in.
I.
Covering the NBA the past seven years, I’ve learned the league at large revolves very little around the actual basketball games. Behind the curtain, there’s a fascinating conflict at play, where players and team personnel operate on equal parts humanity and shrewd business. Organizations, for example, spend countless time and resources investing in building a winning culture—they hire acclaimed chefs, massage therapists, even barbers—they reward a scrappy underdog with the 15th roster spot, citing his energy and toughness, only to later cut that player in favor of a veteran with playoff experience. Even superstars get traded without a moment’s notice.
Coaches can preach camaraderie while also doing their best to brew competitive position battles. It’s more of an old-school approach, but the concept certainly makes sense, however cutthroat. If you need to beat the guy next to you to get more minutes, more opportunity to post stats worthy of a lucrative next contract, you might give a little more effort.
Doug Collins pitted his two rookie centers Lavoy Allen and Nikola Vučević against each other throughout the Philadelphia 76ers’ 2011-12 campaign. It was designed as a thrilling way to start their careers. Only it wasn’t.
The pair of giants had virtually nothing in common besides their weight: 260 pounds. Allen was undersized, 6’9”, a scrappy local product from Temple that hustled his way into being a second-round pick. Philly drafted Vučević with the 16th pick that June, a 6’11” talent born in Switzerland, known more for balletic footwork and scoring prowess than being a brute.
Once Philadelphia’s starting big man Spencer Hawes strained his left Achilles that February, it brought Collins the perfect opportunity to throw his two young centers into the deep end—perhaps to see which one would drown first.
“We had a very short leash when it came to Doug Collins,” Allen says. “Some games Nik would play. And if he would mess up, they would throw me in there. And some games I would play and if I would mess up, they’d throw Nik back in there. So it was really up and down that season. [Collins] didn’t really know what he wanted to do.”
With Hawes on the shelf, Allen first started back-to-back games on Feb. 2 and Feb. 4. Collins then stuck Vučević in Philly’s opening lineup on Feb. 8 and Feb. 10. They rode a seesaw practically all season. Whether huddled on the bench or walking through a practice, Collins would holler at both, nitpicking each big’s strengths and weaknesses, comparing them like a high school guidance counselor weighs two siblings’ transcripts.
Collins wanted Vučević in particular to bang his frame against the NBA’s giants, since his rookie couldn't quite soar to protect the rim. He’d been labeled by Collins with the kiss of death: Soft. The coach screamed at the USC product louder than any of his players. And with Vučević, it often got personal. Collins’ rage intensified each time he felt the youngster faltered. During one heated practice exchange, Collins cursed him out in front of the entire team, and challenged Vučević’s manhood—accusing him of sitting down while urinating.
“There were sometimes where I didn’t see eye to eye with some of the things Doug was doing,” says former Sixers forward Thaddeus Young.
By the postseason, when Philadelphia upended top-seeded Chicago in the opening round, Collins seemed to have lost all faith in Vučević. He was inconsistent at best and overmatched at worst. It’s hard to find a rhythm never knowing if, or how long, you’re going to play. Allen saw action in 12 of the Sixers’ 13 playoff games. Collins even assigned him to guard Hall of Famer Kevin Garnett for large stretches of Eastern Conference semifinal outings against Boston.
Vučević logged just three minutes during that entire postseason. When I later asked him about the challenges of playing under Collins, his answer was brief and telling: “I didn’t play that much in Philly.”
II.
The Orlando Magic eagerly tracked Nikola Vučević’s progress all season. Despite Doug Collins’ antics, Magic officials saw the potential of a legitimate centerpiece, and Vučević would indeed go on to become an NBA All-Star in 2018-19.
Orlando had reached the Finals as recently as 2009 on the hulking shoulders of its starting giant, Dwight Howard, a chiseled pogo-stick and three-time Defensive Player of the Year. But as much as teams focus on building a positive locker room environment, that bears incredibly difficult when your superstar outwardly mocks the coach, lobbies management for his head, and publicly debates sticking around your franchise.
“As [Howard’s] teammates, and obviously ownership and the front office, everybody was sort of getting mixed signals,” says Magic guard JJ Redick. “One day it was this, one day it was that.”
When Orlando failed to advance past the first round in those 2012 playoffs, the Magic swiftly fired Stan Van Gundy, the nasally play-caller who drew Howard’s ire. They let go of general manager Otis Smith and replaced him with a young, analytically-minded executive named Rob Hennigan. He helped morph the Oklahoma City from a tanking upstart into a championship contender, as the Thunder selected Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook and James Harden in three consecutive drafts.
Now the Magic were handing their keys to Hennigan, and empowered him to kickstart a makeover, instantly slamming shut Orlando’s once ever-important title window. “I was actually a little bit surprised, based on what I knew of ownership, that they went ahead and did the teardown,” Van Gundy says.
After initial attempts to convince Howard to stay, Hennigan began phoning possible trade partners and the center’s agent, Dan Fegan, on the regular. In the modern NBA, it’s far better for teams to file for divorce before the superstar simply up and leaves you. The Lakers, Nets, Hawks, Mavericks and Rockets were all offering significant returns, and Howard signaled a strong interest in joining those suitors. Each day brought new discussions, particularly with the Nets, freshly-relocated to Brooklyn, with pressure from ownership to build an instant title threat.
Orlando personnel met with teams in Las Vegas during the NBA’a annual two-week Summer League. At the stadium, and in hotel suites, they held in-person negotiations for upwards of two hours. Philadelphia was eager to swap swingman Andre Iguodala for a more viable No. 1 option, and inquired about Howard’s availability, but quickly learned the All-Star had no desire to make Philadelphia home. When Sixers brass then called Los Angeles about Andrew Bynum, the Lakers were too busy focusing on their own pursuit of Howard.
But if the Sixers wanted Bynum, Hennigan determined, his Magic could facilitate sending the Lakers center to Philadelphia in a multi-team Howard deal—should the Sixers offer a collection of youngsters and draft capital to Orlando. The Nets’ best package only offered expiring contracts and future picks. “We thought that had more value than the salary relief that Brooklyn was offering,” says a Magic executive.
Finally sifting out all the framework, four teams agreed to one of the largest blockbusters in NBA history. Iguodala was rerouted to Denver. In exchange for Howard, now bound for Los Angeles, Orlando received Nuggets guard Arron Afflalo, a collection of veterans and future picks, as well as 19-year-old forward Mo Harkless and the 22-year-old Nikola Vučević from Philadelphia.
He arrived as new Magic head coach Jacque Vaughn’s opening night starting center, and presumably was never questioned about his bathroom habits again.
III.
Let’s flash forward to 2013-14. We’re back in Philadelphia, but this scene begins in a Wells Fargo Center visitor’s locker room, where veteran forward Caron Butler is seething. He’s just dropped 38 points on the 76ers, but his Milwaukee Bucks fell in overtime 115-107, fumbling their seventh-straight game, and this one to none other than Sam Hinkie’s outwardly tanking squad—a bold rebuild that would, of course, make Rob Hennigan’s effort in Orlando look like child’s play.
Butler erupted in that Bucks postgame locker room. Some personal items were slapped to the ground. “I spazzed out,” he says. “I was like, ‘Man, Fuck! I don’t like what’s going on here!’” He mellowed by the time Milwaukee boarded the team plane. Butler, a native of Racine, Wisconsin, once hoped he’d help his hometown team back to the postseason, but he saw this unit’s true fate. If they were going to lose, he wanted to at least mentor younger teammates like Khris Middleton and Brandon Knight. He especially hoped to advise Giannis Antetokounmpo, the freakish Greek teenager selected No. 15 in the 2013 NBA Draft.
“That shit falls on us as vets,” Butler says. “I took pride in that.” On the team flight that evening, Butler summoned Middleton, Knight and Antetokounmpo to his seat in the back of the plane. The veteran explained he wasn’t frustrated with them, more so that Milwaukee’s losing had grown somewhat acceptable, for a team that originally harbored playoff aspirations.
The trio of youngsters all nodded along. But it was Antetokounmpo, long and gangly, far from the dominant force that would go on to claim back-to-back MVP awards, who sought Butler again once the plane landed, and thanked him for the candor. Antetokounmpo understood if winning wasn’t the ultimate priority, little else mattered. “I’ll never forget it,” Butler says. “That meant a lot to me.”
He frequently sat enamored at Antetokounmpo’s endless energy. When Bucks players untied their sneakers after practice, Butler dared Antetokounmpo to attempt various dunks only wearing socks—through the legs, windmills, off one feet and two feet. “He would run and just take off and I was like, ‘Holy shit,’” Butler recalls. On the road, the veteran tasked the rookie with a scavenger hunt in each city. Butler required Antetokounmpo to gather a Snickers from one particular store, a Mountain Dew from another and 20 straws from a McDonald’s, and supply the receipts to prove no shortcuts were taken. “He’d have to go all over town to find that stuff,” Butler says. “I don’t care if he’s in Utah, Portland.”
Butler wanted to test Antetokounmpo’s attention to detail. He’d gone viral in the 2012 Western Conference semifinals for shoving Spurs forward Kawhi Leonard. “When I got older, I always tried to punk the player,” Butler says. His antics targeted Antetokounmpo in practice, spitting junk and pushing him off course. “He stayed fouling hard, playing hard. He didn’t let us get the best of him. He didn’t let all of that discourage him,” Butler says. “And I was like, you know what, this kid gonna be alright, man.”
IV.
Milwaukee remains the setting for this last anecdote—and thank you again for following along—only this story once again steps inside the visitors’ locker room, when the Bucks handed Sacramento a 111-103 loss on Feb. 11, 2015, the Kings’ fifth defeat in six games.
Sacramento went just 7-21 under interim coach Tyrone Corbin. That December, the Kings had curiously fired their original play caller Michael Malone following the team’s 11-13 start. Malone’s coaching staff wanted to build the Kings into a defensive force, guarding their way back into the playoffs. Management—particularly Sacramento owner Vivek Ranadive—believed an offensive makeover, something more closely resembling the running-and-gunning Golden State Warriors, was more prudent. “It was just a difference in opinion,” says former Kings assistant coach Chris Jent.
Even with those clashing ideologies, Sacramento opened the 2014-15 year at 5-1. Then their All-Star center DeMarcus Cousins missed nine games with a vicious case of viral meningitis, the Kings dropped seven of those nine, and provided the perfect optic circumstance for management to cut ties with Malone—a move several Sacramento sources attest was primarily initiated by Ranadive, not the Kings’ front office.
But when Kings general manager Pete D'Alessandro rallied Malone’s remaining assistants the morning after his dismissal, the exec anointed Corbin as Sacramento’s interim leader… and that was that. D’Alessandro offered little further explanation behind axing the coaches’ former boss. “It wasn’t really a why,” Jent recalls. “It was, ‘This is how it is and you’re welcome to stay here, we value you and what you’re doing, but this is the situation.’”
Corbin never stood a chance either. Cousins felt betrayed by the front office that let go of the one coach, Malone, who communicated with the star transparently, rather than airing their grievances in the media. Further muddying the water, whispers suggesting veteran George Karl would ultimately take over Sacramento’s sideline grew louder and louder as January approached February.
By that loss at Milwaukee, the Kings’ final game before the All-Star break, Corbin knew his demise had already been decided. He was the lamest of ducks—news broke of Karl’s hire that afternoon, and he was officially named Sacramento’s head coach the very next day. So Corbin waded back to that postgame locker room as defeated as his team. He gave an emotional, minutes-long speech, preaching togetherness amid adversity.
“I honestly think they were hoping to make it to the end of the year with Ty,” Karl says. Instead, Corbin’s final message to Kings players, before departing for their respective All-Star break plans, disclosed he didn’t expect to remain on Karl’s staff once they returned to Sac. “I remember how strange it was,” says then-Kings guard Nik Stauskas says.
“It was something I’ve never seen again,” adds Ben McLemore, another Sacramento wing. Here was an NBA coach essentially speaking at his own funeral. The Kings were onto their fifth play caller in four seasons. Veterans like Carl Landry, Reggie Evans and Rudy Gay wrapped their arms around Sacramento’s youngsters. “They told me the same thing,” McLeMore says. “‘Not all the teams are like this.’”
‘Built to Lose: How the NBA’s Tanking Era Changed the League Forever,” arrives on May 4.
You can subscribe to this newsletter and receive a 30% off discount code.