What I Did On My Vacation, Part II

Yeah, yeah, I know -- another vacation?

Even though the trip to Tahoe seems like last week, I was off again this week. This is by design.

Once college football starts -- and with the first "Tailgate Overtime" special slated for August 13th, it's sooner than you think -- I'm pretty much cooked until the following spring. So each summer, as the Marlins and Devil Rays slog it out on FSN Florida, I take all the vacation time that I am allotted from Sun Sports.

It's not so bad, really. I spent this week at home doing, umm, nothing. Played golf four days in a row (note to self: that's one day too many. I, and my aching lower back, have new respect for the flatbellies who play four consecutive days of tournament golf every week just to make their mortgage payments). Took the kids to day camp. Packed for a weekend at the beach. Received kind e-mails from Kanu, EDSBS, and Brian after I placed them on my personal best-seller list. And, of course, I watched the NBA Draft.

Within minutes of the completion of the first round, Sun Sports contributor Todd Wright sent me an e-mail regarding the Blazers' deal with New York that sent Zach Randolph and parts to the NYC in exchange for Channing Frye and the lovable Steve Francis.

His complaint, translated into printable language, was that new Portland GM Kevin Pritchard was a great big dope for subjecting soon-to-be franchise center Greg Oden to the locker room cancer that anyone remotely connected to the NBA knows Steve-O to be.

Why, Todd wondered, would Portland risk poisoning Oden? My answer to him, and to all: they won't.

Granted, the Knicks are hardly known for fiscal ingenuity, but this deal was masterful. Randolph was the lone remaining character issue in Portland, and the Knicks knew it. Further, they knew that Pritchard and the Blazers front office is hell-bent on erasing the Jail Blazers image forever. So Isiah Thomas, in a rare fit of common sense, insisted on including Francis as part of the package to pry Randolph from the Pacific Northwest. It was a combination character-slash-cap move, with the Knicks betting heavily on their ability to get inside Randolph's head, while simultaneously removing an expensive headache in Francis.

As I told Todd -- and as subsequent media reports indicate -- Francis will likely be bought out, or perhaps waived outright, with Portland eating his remaining salary. If I were Pritchard, I might try to dangle Francis in another trade, just to see if someone wants to throw stupid money at him, but it's a long shot. Put simply: there's absolutely no chance that Steve Francis ever wears a Blazers uniform. Penny Hardaway had a better chance of showing up in Orlando again after the Magic dumped Francis on the Knicks last year in the trade that brought Trevor Ariza to Florida.

Once the Magic waived Hardaway, that deal helped the Magic earn the salary cap flexibility that they hope to enjoy during July's free agency spree. Portland, once they rid themselves of Francis in some form, will most likely still be on the hook for a chunk of his change, but they'll have Channing Frye and Greg Oden on the same front line, without the headache of Randolph to screw it up. The Knicks will hope to massage Randolph into something resembling a model citizen, with David Lee, Malik Rose, and Eddy Curry doing the tough-love thing at practice.

In the twisted world of NBA finance, that's a pretty good deal.

Speaking of good deals, I think I like the Boston-Seattle trade that brought Ray Allen and Glen "Big Baby" Davis to the Celtics for Delonte West, Wally Sczcerbiak, and #5 pick Jeff Green.

Not only does Jesus Shuttlesworth bring instant offense to the Celtics, he also placates Paul Pierce and the Celtic faithful -- this is Danny Ainge's way of saying, "no, really, I'm serious." Seattle, with Kevin Durant in the fold, could probably care less, but they still get a lottery pick-level player in Green and a couple of veterans to lighten the load on Durant. Further, they free up some money to make a run at keeping Rashard Lewis, which sounds like a long shot, according to his agent. Even if Lewis leaves (for Orlando?), Seattle basically gets two top-5 picks, West, and Wally World in exchange for Ray Allen.

That, too, is a pretty good deal.

A couple of draft memos:

To the Atlanta Hawks: Don't listen to the media hounds who wonder how you're going to play 47 small forwards at once. Keep Al Horford, keep all the Joshes and Williamses, and go lay some Euroleague-style hoop on 'em. It's the Eastern Conference. You'll be fine.

To the Chicago Bulls: No, you still don't have a low post threat, but Joakim Noah will be the best teammate anybody on your roster ever had. He's Anderson Varajao with twice the game -- and Varajao just played in the NBA Finals, in case anyone missed it. Sure, Noah needs work on his offense, but so does Ben Wallace, and he's been in the league for 11 freaking years. And has a ring.

To the Philadelphia 76ers: Umm, you knew that Al Thornton was still available at 12, right? I mean, no offense to the freshman from Georgia Tech whose name escapes me at the moment, but is there a plan here?

To the Minnesota Timberwolves: Congratulations. Thanks to your selections of Corey Brewer and Chris Richard, you just became the favorite NBA team of Gator Nation. And if I were Kevin Garnett, wouldn't I be just a little more inclined to stick around and see how these kids can help me?

And to the Orlando Magic: You dealt your second-round picks for cash considerations. Building a free agency war chest, I suppose. Now let's see what you can do with it this summer.

That's enough for now. I am on vacation, you know.

What I'm Reading

Shortly before the Pepsi Don't Call It Firecracker Even Though Most Floridians Still Do 400 gets underway at Daytona International Speedway on the week of July 4th, Sun Sports will debut a new (and, as far as I know, final for 2007) episode of In My Own Words.

The guest for this show is Mike Helton, the president of NASCAR. Mike sat down with me two weeks ago at Daytona USA, the attraction in the venerable speedway's parking lot, for a chat about his background, his current position, and the future of racin'.

As the "IMOW" interviews go, this one is okay. Not terrific -- and I would consider LeRoy Butler's interview to be the standard in that regard -- but okay. It was a monumental task on the part of our producers to slice through the layers of NASCAR bureaucracy to get to Helton, and our only option was to travel the entire crew to Daytona. Conversely, Butler drove himself from Jacksonville to Orlando to tape his show in our studio, and all we had to do was, well, call him. There is a lesson here about the value of a title and the relevance of "layers," but I'm already digressing.

Apparently, Mike Helton is a voracious reader, particularly of historical non-fiction. I found this interesting because I have the same reading addiction. My house is floor-to-ceiling stocked with books, dating from childhood to last week's airport trip. On the topic of non-fiction, I just started "Flags Of Our Fathers," the true story of the flag-raisers at Iwo Jima as penned by one of their sons. I've kind of been on the WWII kick lately, reading stuff like "Flyboys," "Band of Brothers," and "D-Day," but I've got Clive Cussler, Dan Brown, Steven King, and Jon Krakauer on my shelf, among many others.

Still digressing. Should I see someone about this?

As a practical matter, my daily routine includes several "must-sees" on the Internet. These are all work-related, in the broadest sense of the term. I read up on the sports news of the day in order to better perform my job as a TV guy, while simultaneously enjoying the completely legitimate benefit of writing off my high-speed Internet service. This is the life we chose.

I provide this list as a public service. Perhaps someone will read this and hit on a site he has never heard of, and be better for the experience.

My daily stops:

Every Day Should Be Saturday: Shortly after my fellow Cornell alum Dick Schaap passed away, he was eulogized on ESPN by Mike Lupica thusly: "at least once a week, he [Schaap] wrote something so good, it made you angry. You'd throw stuff at the wall for not thinking of it first."

That's pretty much how I feel when I read EDSBS. Nobody should be that funny. It's not fair. My relationship with EDSBS is strictly love/hate. So very, very good.

College Football Resource: The editor of this site, Brian, has e-mailed back and forth with me several times on the topic of a playoff in Division I football, of which he is decidedly not a fan. He also loves the Artists and Mechanics Theory (and really, who doesn't?), and we've shared some space on that very topic. I always stop at CFR at some point during the day. Not only does it find all the interesting stories for me, I also get to enjoy weekly anti-playoff rants, which is worth the price of admission.

True Hoop: I was worried that ESPN's acquisition of the best NBA "collection" site on the Net would somehow cheapen it, but so far, so good. Henry Abbott is not for the casual sports bar NBA fan -- he is for the hoophead, the hardcore, those of us who not only understand the salary cap, but have specific opinions about it. This is serious basketball. Put simply, I had never heard of Beno Udrih until I read his name on True Hoop, and I'm a basketball guy. That should tell you something. I'm not sure what, but something.

Fistful Of Sports: Reid Kerr is a radio guy, and a television guy, and a sports information guy. More importantly, he's a guy who gets it. We got to know each other via Top Five, a site that relies on both of us as contributors (along with dozens of others), and I find his work to be, as I once wrote, "unfailingly funny." Funny is important. I know funny. Reid is funny.

Jamie Shapiro: Jamie is the senior studio producer at Sun Sports. He's also a Chicago apologist, an outed soccer fan, and a music geek. None of this offends me in the slightest. I love Chicago, I tolerate soccer (and at the very least, acknowledge its sphere of influence outside the US), and dig deep tracks. If I can lighten his load at Sun Sports enough to give him time to update his blog more frequently, I will have served humanity. We all need a goal (snicker).

Dodgy At Best: Jamie hooked me into this one. I have nothing to add other than this: if Kanu ever decided to direct his browser at college football, the world would be a better place.

Orlando Magic Blog: The editor of this site, Matt, has traded e-mails with me many times regarding the Magic's coaching situation, in particular his personal distaste for the departed Brian Hill. I'm okay with that, because everything he writes is well-grounded in fact, or at least informed opinion. I'm always cool with dialogue, as long as it's rational and logical. This blog fits the bill, and frankly, the Magic need fans as passionate as these. Many more of them, in fact.

Of course, I read all the Scout.com fan sites that pertain to Florida schools, since Scout has been a member of the Fox Sports family for some time now. I read Gator Country and Warchant to see what the UF and FSU fans are pissed about, respectively. And when it's been a long day, and I'm really fried, there's always Bill Simmons, who, love him or hate him, is much better at this than I am.

Here's where I play golf.

Here's where I read what the Chevy Florida Fishing Report viewers are talking about.

Here's where I want to retire.

Here's my high school, where I sit on the Board of Trustees and root shamelessly for the athletic teams.

And here is the most challenging, the most fulfilling, the most fun thing I do all week.

This list is by no means final. It changes every week. But if anyone ever wonders how in the world I got to wherever I got to, this is a decent point from which to start.

As always, thanks for watching, and thanks for reading.

All Sports Are Local

"My entire career is based on the idea that all sports are local."

Jim Heckman, the man who founded Scout.com, wrote that in an e-mail addressed to me a couple of years ago. He was responding to my blog entry regarding Fox's purchase of Scout, but I bring it up now after watching the 2007 NBA Finals.

Perhaps "not watching" is more appropriate, because I think I spent about five minutes total on the Cavs and Spurs. Clearly, I am not alone, as these were the lowest rated Finals since the Lions took the Christians in five, and just about as competitive.

NBA Commissioner David Stern, who I consider to be utterly brilliant and potentially lethal, has been oddly obtuse when speculating on the cause of the low ratings. The media has offered a variety of explanations: the methodical blandness of the Spurs, the overwhelming odds against the Cavaliers, the gazillion other options out there in TV land, and the complete absence of personality or relevance among the television hosts assigned to the pregame and postgame shows.

Okay, I added that last part.

I would also add this: the games start too late, and they take too long.

I picked up the Orlando Sentinel this morning expecting to read the story of Game 4. Instead, I got a note informing me that said game was too late for the Sentinel's print deadline. Orlando is an NBA city, for the love of Terry Catledge. If fans in NBA cities can't get coverage of a Finals game on the morning after, how can the league expect anyone else to give a crap?

Is a 9pm eastern time start really necessary? Is the NBA so concerned about its West Coast audience that it's willing to alienate the East Coast fans that live in the same neighborhoods where the game was born? Wait, scratch that -- forget the question of who "deserves" the better start time. Just run the numbers, like any other business:

There are roughly 49,000,000 people who live in the Pacific time zone of the US, with 36 million of those living in California. The Central and Eastern time zones, on the other hand, are home to nearly 227 million people. I have never -- ever -- understood why "national" sports events like the NBA Finals, the World Series, and Monday Night Football started at 9pm eastern, catering to an audience that is one-fourth the size of those closer to the East Coast.

Start the games at 8 eastern, or -- gasp -- play one or two during the afternoon on a weekend. It's not that hard.

But back to the opening paragraph. "All sports are local."

A couple of weeks ago, I sat down with Mike Helton, the president of NASCAR, for an episode of "In My Own Words." In preparing for the interview, I learned that NASCAR is the most popular spectator sport in America; in terms of television ratings, it trails only the NFL nationally. But does it really?

NFL games on Sunday afternoons, as we all know, are regionalized. Fans who watch the network coverage in Florida will see a different slate of games from those who watch in California, or in Michigan. With Monday Night Football now on ESPN, the only truly "national" NFL game each week on broadcast television is the Sunday night game on NBC; while their ratings on Sunday night were very strong in 2006, we're still only talking about 14 to 16 events each year, all of which begin at 8pm eastern time or later on Sunday nights.

NASCAR, on the other hand, will have 25 events live on broadcast television this season between FOX and ABC, almost all of which take place in daylight hours on the weekend. While the remaining races are indeed on cable (either TNT or ESPN), they, too, start for the most part at 1pm or 3pm, and always on a weekend day. If you ever wonder why NASCAR is so popular in this country, start there: it's on TV at a convenient time, and the majority of races are available to those without cable television. Pretty simple. Perhaps the NBA could learn from Those Who Turn Left.

With the vast majority of NFL regular-season games offered as regional coverage -- and the marquee Monday Night Football matchup shifted to cable -- we are left with one, and only one, truly national sport on broadcast television: NASCAR. Everything else -- the NFL included -- has become "local."

That, by the way, is the very principle behind the creation of networks like Sun Sports and FSN Florida. Mr. Heckman's guiding mantra is the same philosophy that has compelled FOX to expand the reach of its regional networks to the point that 62 of the 82 teams in America's "major sports" -- other than the NFL -- play games on FOX regional sports networks like Sun Sports and FSN Florida. Interestingly, our parent company's biggest rival at the moment is not ESPN, which has focused itself exclusively on being all things to all people, but rather Comcast, which is aggressively pursuing regional sports network opportunities in the FSN vein. This same philosophy is also behind the growth of team-owned networks like YES and NESN, and the continuous exploration by other pro franchises into creating their own regional nets, like the Cleveland Indians and Sports Time Ohio, which launched last year.

It's not just pro sports, either: the Big Ten conference has launched its own regional cable network, hiring my friend Dave Revsine away from ESPN as lead studio anchor. The Mountain West has done it, and the SEC is talking about it. Teams and conferences that create their own networks are indeed subscribing to the theory that "all sports are local," but they have added incentive that doesn't apply to networks like Sun Sports: the Yankees, Red Sox, SEC, and Big Ten can maintain editorial control of how their product is presented by owning the network. There's little chance that the host of, say, an NBA franchise-owned network studio show will rip a coaching decision on the air the way Screamin' A. Smith feels obligated to do so on ESPN. From that standpoint, it's smart business for the teams in question, even if it's a little Orwellian at times.

When I first moved back home to Orlando in 2003 to join Sun Sports (then Sunshine Network), people used to ask me why I would ever leave ESPN. You're starting to see why this was not only the best decision I ever made, but perhaps (unwittingly) the smartest. For this is the direction we're heading: a universe of cable television networks completely dedicated to the teams and programs that you actually care about, with the broadcast networks fighting mightily to sell a fraction of that same product nationally. Consider the 2007 NBA Finals an early casualty in a war for your attention that has just begun.

"All sports are local." Unless you're NASCAR, I guess.

Making A Statement

When I was an English major at Cornell, one of my Narrative Writing professors was a man named Dan McCall. You probably never heard of him, but you know his work. He wrote a novel called "Jack The Bear" that was made into a 1993 movie starring Danny DeVito.

Anyway, Professor McCall was one of the single most influential teachers I ever had, and one of his mantras in class was something along the lines of "get to the point." He was not one for lyrical hyperbole; "Jack The Bear," a terrific book, was all of 150 pages. His style was direct and simple. He got to the point, but in order to do so, he had to consider every word very carefully.

Which brings me to the following statement issued by the Orlando Magic on Wednesday night:

"As our signing of Billy Donovan showed, we are committed to winning a championship. We have the legal right to hold Billy to the contract he signed, but with him having a change of heart about leaving college basketball, we want him at the University of Florida. We have granted him permission to break his commitment and return to the Gators."

That's it. Sixty-one words. Donovan, on the other hand, issued a statement that was more than twice as long. He can be forgiven: first, he's a coach, and they all speak in paragraphs. Second, he felt the need to apologize, which always takes a little longer.

Drawing on the lessons learned in the hot, creaky classrooms of the Cornell English department, let's break down the Magic's statement.

"As our signing of Billy Donovan showed, we are committed to winning a championship."

The placement of that statement as the opening line of the paragraph indicates the weight that the Magic have assigned to it. The message is clear: "if you remember nothing else about this entire debacle, remember that we got him, dammit. We chased the hottest coach in America, and he said 'yes.' We didn't come here to paint, we came here to win. Now get off our backs about Jeryl Sasser and the whole John Weisbrod thing."

"We have the legal right to hold Billy to the contract he signed..."

Yes, they do, and they'd like to remind Gator Nation and the national media of that fact, just to reinforce the point that Donovan not only accepted the offer, he placed his name on the dotted line. It subtly shifts the responsibility for all of this to Donovan without overtly tossing him under the bus, for reasons we'll get to in a moment. Calling him "Billy" as opposed to "Coach Donovan" or "Mr. Donovan" softens the blow, however. It indicates that the two sides got to know each other. It's very Kumbaya. He's our friend "Billy."

"...but with him having a change of heart about leaving college basketball, we want him at the University of Florida."

This, to me, is the home run statement within the statement. First, we reinforce the notion that this was all Billy's doing, while simultaneously assuring Magic fans that it wasn't a case of Donovan wanting OUT of the Magic job, but back IN to college basketball. The Magic attack the notion that the organization's perceived dysfunction played any role at all -- going after the critics who love to hammer that point -- by pushing the conversation towards Donovan's desire to stay in the college game. And once they did that, they admitted that they agreed with his decision: "we want him at the University of Florida."

Sure they do. Lots of UF alums buy Magic tickets. If Gator fans are happy with the way the Magic treated Billy, they might become Magic fans. As I told Frank Frangie on his radio show in Jacksonville last week, the Magic cannot be the bad guy in this deal. Not when dealing with the coach at Florida. If Donovan was coming from an out-of-state program, the Magic may have been more inclined to hold his feet to the fire. But it's Orlando, and it's Florida (the school and the state), and as I predicted on the air, the Magic are taking the high road. They have no other option, not when they're trying to erase a decade of bad PR and keep ticket-buying Gator fans on their side. Sure, they had the "legal right" to make a stink, but doing so would have been public relations suicide in these parts, and they knew it. An utterly perfect sentence within the statement.

"We have granted him permission to break his commitment and return to the Gators."

The clincher. Remind the world that we (the Magic) held all the cards here, as Donovan had signed the contract. The team had the leverage, but "granted him permission" to go. No, wait, not "go" -- rather, "break his commitment." Perhaps a final, subtle shot at Donovan for skipping out, but better yet, one more reminder that his name was on the freaking contract. And finally, "return to the Gators." Not "return to college basketball" -- where his heart lies, according to the sentence that came before this one -- but "to the Gators." Throw the team name in there one more time to assuage the Nation, while hinting that were it not Florida, the Magic could have been far nastier and more difficult. "We're not letting him out to go coach at Kentucky. We're letting him out to go back and coach the Gators. Remember that. You're welcome. In case anyone is curious, season tickets are now available. And seriously, get off our backs about the 'Curse of Shaq' and the whole Tracy McGrady thing."

Sixty-one words. A world of meaning. This is one hell of a statement. In all seriousness, hats off to Joel Glass and the rest of the Magic communications department, and anyone else in that office who contributed to the writing. As a man well-trained in critical writing, I am very much impressed. Professor McCall is more of a baseball guy, but he'd be impressed as well.

Now, about the next head coach...

The Magic, The Heat, and the Timing

Tim Povtak, one of my favorite NBA writers, made a couple of terrific points on Wednesday morning when he appeared on the Sentinel's daily sports radio show on Orlando's 740 The Team.

If it's indeed Stan Van Gundy for the Magic -- and after the events of the last week, I'm reserving judgement until I see the man coach a regular-season game in Orlando -- that's not a bad hire at all. I've already written that I consider SVG to be a highly underrated coach, and I know from past experience with the Miami Heat (specifically, hosting pre-game shows on Sun Sports during the team's 2004 playoff run with Van Gundy and rookie Dwyane Wade) that players, especially young players, respond to him. But here's the extra point that Tim made this morning:

If it's Van Gundy, there is no NBA learning curve. He knows the game, and knows the players. Ramping up a Magic roster under SVG would be infinitely easier than doing so under Billy Donovan, who has never coached in the NBA. Tim went so far as to say that teams like the Heat were actually "relieved" when the Magic hired Donovan over Van Gundy, assuming that it would take Donovan a half-season or longer to become acclimated to the pro game (and professionally fragile egos). Tim concluded that in the short term, Van Gundy is a much better basketball hire for the Magic than Donovan would have been. Donovan would sell more tickets and energize the casual fan; Van Gundy, theoretically, would win games sooner.

If you buy Tim's logic (and I think I do), and we agree that winning solves everything (ditto), hiring Van Gundy puts the Magic back on their feet.

But as of this writing, there was yet another snag for Orlando, and it comes from their friendly rivals to the south.

Heat team president Pat Riley is reportedly seeking compensation before allowing Van Gundy out of his contract as a Heat consultant, a deal that runs through 2008. This is a common practice in the NBA; as the South Florida Sun-Sentinel noted this morning, Riley himself cost the Miami Heat a first-round pick and $1 million dollars when they drew him away from the Knicks in 1995. However, drawing a line in the sand over Van Gundy is a curious move from Riley, who said nothing about compensation when he announced in April that SVG was free to pursue head coaching opportunities. For that matter, if SVG has a deal on the table from the Sacramento Kings, as has been widely reported, there's been no mention of compensation to the Heat from that franchise. And finally, "compensation" usually applies to head coaches, not assistants or "consultants."

You could make an argument that the Magic situation is unique, as they play in Miami's division, but let's get real. Doesn't this sound like Riley just wants to stick it to the Magic because it's Orlando, and because, well, he can?

Regional rivalries aside -- and make no mistake about it, the two franchises are rivals, from the front office to the court -- the backstory here is Riley's touch-and-go with Stan Van Gundy in the head coaching position with the Heat. After finishing the '02-'03 season with a 36-46 record, Riley walked away from the job on the eve of the 2003-2004 season, handing the reins over to Van Gundy, who watched the team struggle to an 0-7 start. The Heat, behind sensational play from the rookie Wade, rebounded to finish 42-40 and reach the second round of the NBA Playoffs. 2004 was the summer of Shaq; with the Diesel on board, Van Gundy took the Heat to the Eastern Conference Finals in '05, losing in seven games to the Pistons after blowing a 3-2 series lead.

In December of '05, Stan Van Gundy made the stunning announcement that he wanted to "spend more time with his family," and Riley was back in. That season, of course, produced the Miami Heat's first NBA Championship. Riley was dogged with accusations that he forced SVG out in order to retake the spotlight (with, to his credit, a vastly improved team of his own creation as Heat president and GM). Riley and the rest of the Heat organization vehemently denied any such "master plan," and the topic rarely came up in the wake of an NBA title. Stan Van Gundy, ever the loyal soldier, made it very easy on the Heat by remaining essentially silent on the matter. He's been all but invisible ever since.

Until now. If and when Van Gundy is announced in Orlando, you can bet that several media outlets will be revisiting this particular chapter in Heat history, and will no doubt question Pat Riley's motivations again. And when they do, they'll be late to the game, because the Sun-Sentinel's Ira Winderman has already done so:

"On one hand, Riley asking for compensation is sound business. Why not, if the opportunity is there, seek to bolster your franchise?

On the other, should someone with the remarkable resume' of Riley display concern over a former assistant working in the same division?

Riley has done a remarkable job in advancing the careers of the Van Gundys, [Jeff] Bzdelik, Marc Iavaroni and others who have emerged from his staffs.

Yet the legacy is not one of sage mentor and devout pupils.

It can be argued there is no room for sentiment in competitive sport.

But, sometimes, a large figure can come off looking remarkably small."

Well said. Earning the ire of Ira (snicker) is partially a mess of Pat Riley's own creation. Which brings me back to the Magic.

Their current mess, the one involving Billy Donovan, is partially of their own creation as well. Just a little bit. Follow me on this:

The Magic lost game four of their first-round series against Detroit on April 28th. After a three-week "evaluation period," Brian Hill was fired on May 23rd. Billy Donovan was announced as the new head coach on May 31st.

Judging from published reports, Donovan and the Magic may have been in contact -- through third parties, at least -- before Hill's departure was official, but essentially, those three weeks of limbo forced the Magic into a compressed negotiating period with Donovan. Go back and re-read the news accounts, and remember the timeline: while Donovan was announced on a Thursday, he was denying contact with the Magic as recently as Tuesday of the same week. It was a 48-hour courtship, with the Magic in a hurry -- while they were dancing with Billy, their pool of candidates was shrinking. Marc Iavaroni, the former Suns assistant who was a popular choice among Magic fans, was announced as the Memphis Grizzlies' head coach on that same Thursday morning. No NBA team wants to enter June, and the summer draft/free agent season, without a coach in place.

48 hours for Donovan to decide if he wanted to leave a place where he had spent the last 11 years of his life building a program from nothing into a two-time national champion. 48 hours to weigh the costs and benefits of uprooting his wife and four children -- all of whom, by all accounts, absolutely love it in Gainesville and have no desire to leave. 48 hours to ponder the effect his departure would have on his current players, his recruits, Gator Nation, and his good friend Jeremy Foley, who tabbed him for the Florida job when Donovan was barely 30 years old. Granted, Donovan is an adult, and his failure to fully consider his own desires and the weight of the move is a fair criticism, but could you do all of that in less than two days and feel good about it? Is it any wonder that Donovan made a decision that he immediately regretted?

Donovan was in a hurry because the Magic were in a hurry. They spent three weeks -- wasted three weeks, according to critics of Brian Hill -- evaluating their head coach, and found themselves up against the clock as a result. That translated into Donovan's hurried decision, one that he might not have made had he been granted sufficient time to weigh the options. As a secondary result, the delay also forced Stan Van Gundy into the uncomfortable position of fending off the Sacramento Kings, who may end up going with someone else anyway. And if I really wanted to stretch it, I might argue that all the extra time allowed the Heat to brace themselves for Van Gundy's potential departure by coming up with the "compensation" gambit.

So why did it take three weeks?

That's a question the Magic will have to answer. We can only guess: no matter what the fans think, it's never easy to fire a head coach, especially one with such deep personal ties to the organization. Perhaps they were trying to convince Hill to change his style to the uptempo game that Otis Smith desires. Plus, Otis has free agency to worry about, and his bosses have a new arena to fight for. Hill was on vacation. The DeVos family was spread all over the globe. Just not enough hours in the day. Whatever.

Point is, whether we agree with the necessity of three weeks or not, the Magic have at least a little bit of culpability in this situation. They did nothing wrong by landing Donovan -- and if he doesn't change his mind, this conversation never happens -- but you have to wonder how things might be different now if Billy D was officially offered the job on, say, May 15th.

Think he could have used those two extra weeks?

Get Ready

NOTE: Here's the post on Billy Donovan as it was written before he apparently had a change of heart. If he comes to Orlando, all still applies. If he stays in Gainesville, Gator fans rejoice while we confirm that the Magic are, in fact, cursed.

I really liked this post, too. Guess we should treat it as a writing exercise in fiction.

On Thursday of last week, Sun Sports received a phone call from upper management at the Orlando Magic. The message was simple: "get ready."

The call came to our downtown office; within minutes, the studio staff, based 15 miles away on the back lot at Universal Studios Florida, had been alerted. I work at that studio. We, too, were told to "get ready." We didn't know precisely what we were getting ready for; the implication was that press conferences were coming, a major announcement to follow. Something big. That much we knew.

"Get ready," indeed.

Let's back up for a moment.

Spring, 1992. I was a junior at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. My fraternity brothers and I gathered around the TV set in the living room of our putrid chapter house to watch the NBA Draft lottery. The Orlando Magic -- my hometown team, the only professional franchise in Orlando at the time -- had a shot at the number one pick.

There were three college players that anybody cared about that year. Christian Laettner had won back-to-back NCAA championships at Duke. Alonzo Mourning was the scowling, menacing pivotman from Georgetown. And then there was Shaq.

Shaquille O'Neal, Louisiana State University. He was a monster. A man-child. A freak. Shaq was once in a lifetime; everyone knew it. While Laettner and Mourning were great college players, Shaq was a phenomenon. He was history in high-tops. The NBA team that won the first overall pick in the draft in 1992 would be the team that drafted Shaq, and would therefore change the course of its franchise -- and the NBA -- forever.

David Stern pulled the second-to-last envelope, and it read, "Charlotte Hornets."

All I can remember from that day is a vision of myself -- a younger, more innocent, blissfully unaware kid -- running down the hallways of a cavernous fraternity house in Ithaca, screaming "We just got Shaq! We just got Shaq!"

I bring this up because on Friday, June 1st, 2007, Orlando's home team received the second-biggest jolt in franchise history. Number one was, and will always be, Shaq; running a close second is the hiring of Billy Donovan. That's how big this is.

When I walked into the practice gym at the RDV Sportsplex in Maitland on Friday morning, there were at least 400 people lining the bleachers. Magic staff members, mostly young and fresh-faced, filled the back rows. I was carried back in time once again, to my four years as a Magic staffer, when I was just as ambitious and audacious as the kids I saw that morning. They were buzzing, marveling at the enormous media crush in front of them, soaking up the atmosphere. They knew they were about to become a part of franchise history -- something that I can clearly recall, seeing as how I was on staff when the team went to the NBA Finals in 1995. This was big, and they knew it. I knew it, too.

Orlando Mayor Buddy Dyer was there. The media horde that covers this team on a daily basis, many of whom have been there since my formative days as a Magic television producer, were dutifully assembled. We were joined by cameras from ESPN, reporters from every media outlet in Orlando, and dozens of representatives from stations in Tampa, Miami, Jacksonville, and yes, Gainesville. We were buzzing too. This was big. The biggest thing to hit this erstwhile franchise since, well, Shaq. We all knew it.

The Magic had hired Billy Donovan.

No, wait. The Magic had convinced Billy Donovan. The Magic had proven themselves, as a team and an organization, to be attractive enough to compel the most successful coach in University of Florida history to leave Gainesville. Dwight Howard, JJ Redick, Darko Milicic, Jameer Nelson, Trevor Ariza, and the promise of miles of room under the salary cap did it. Team president Bob Vander Weide did it. Otis Smith, once the most popular player in a Magic uniform, now a general manager bent on proving himself in the cutthroat world of NBA basketball, did it. They all did it. They convinced Billy D to leave his "comfort zone" -- his words -- and take on his first ever NBA head coaching job.

Sure, geography had something to do with it. Orlando is 115 miles south of Gainesville. Donovan's four children can stay in school in Gainesville; his wife, famously media-shy, can live something close to the normal life she has worked so hard to create for her family for the last 11 years, for the time being. Memphis was never in the picture, folks. Too far away, too much of an upheaval.

Plus, the Grizzlies are terrible. The Magic are not. This is not a rebuilding project. This is, as Donovan stated on Friday, the "next challenge."

If Donovan had not just won back-to-back national championships at Florida, this deal never happens. If Dwight Howard was not the Magic's franchise player, this deal never happens. If this job were available in Atlanta or New Orleans or even Miami, this deal never happens. It had to be Orlando. It was the perfect storm.

Many Gator fans are apoplectic, and for good reason. Not because Donovan left them high and dry -- quite the opposite, in fact. He built that program from absolutely nothing. There was no Gator basketball before Billy. Not on the national stage, anyway. Florida reached the NCAA Tournament five times in 77 years of basketball prior to Donovan's arrival; his second national championship at the school was also the Gators' 9th consecutive NCAA Tournament appearance. He was there for 11 years.

Two national championships and nine straight NCAA appearances in 11 years. I think he did his part.

No, Gator fans were bent because they know, in their heart of hearts, that they will never find another coach like Billy D. They may find a guy who wins; in fact, I think they will, seeing as how Donovan has built that program into one of the most attractive jobs in America. The Gators are not dead, not by a long shot. They've arrived. Billy saw to that.

Gator fans are upset because they've lost another legend. First Spurrier, now Donovan. For those fans who have been torching Donovan for his decision, let me offer this: you won a BCS football championship after Spurrier left. There's no reason to think you can't do it after Donovan leaves. You're in a different place now. You've arrived. Just say "thank you, Billy," and move on. Face it, were it not for Donovan, you wouldn't care about Gator basketball in the first place.

Back to those press conferences: a number of things happened on Friday.

JJ Redick's career just took a dramatic turn for the better. The Magic sold 200 more season tickets in a 24-hour period, with many more to come. Two or three summer free agents who otherwise wouldn't have cared less about Orlando just called their agents. And the big one: maybe, just maybe, the Magic secured themselves a new arena, in addition to securing themselves a new head coach, their 8th in eighteen years.

In the spring of 1995, I was on the floor at the Orlando Arena when the Magic beat the Indiana Pacers in Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals. I was wrapping up my first season as a full-time Magic employee, having completed a season-long internship with the team the year before. The Magic were heading to the Finals. The world was ours. No limit, no ceiling. I had just turned 24 years old, and I thought it would never end.

It did, quickly. It hasn't come back since.

Billy Donovan has never coached a game in the NBA. We know he can relate to young players, but we have no idea if his philosophies will translate to the pro game. We know he will sell tickets, but we have no idea if he will win. We're about to find out. History is not on his side, as many have noted.

But I do know this: on Friday, the Magic mattered again. The Spurs are about to play for their fourth title in the last eight years, and the Cleveland Cavaliers have just won their first Eastern Conference championship since, well, ever. But in Florida, all of that fell to the back page after Friday.

This is big. Get ready.