Stomaching a Title

Hear that noise coming from Detroit? It's sounds like a rumbling — and it isn't coming from Kwame's bedroom.

No, that's the stomach of the collective Detroit Pistons. And it's clamoring like a pair of thunderstix in the hands of an ADD 8-year-old.

The knock on the Pistons has been the same for three years in a row: They only play when they want to play, and often that decision is made too late. But this team, a collection of wily veterans and new red, white and blue blood, seems as hungry as it has been since 2004, when Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O'Neal learned what it's like to virutally play 5-on-2.

Sure it's early. The first two rounds of the Eastern Conference playoffs are about as important as Flavor Flav's love life. But there's a new swagger about this team, one that desirably lacks swagger while hogging a arena-load of confidence. Maybe it's the youth injected into this team like a shot of speed. Maybe it's the stealth-like approach taken to dismantling a talented team such as the Orlando Magic without much fanfare.

Or maybe, they just haven't eaten lately.

It's been four years since the Pistons tasted immoral victory (and doesn't it seem more like four decades?). Since then, the turnover has been palpable. Gone are Mike James and Memhet Okur and Elden Campbell and Corliss Williamson and Tremaine Fowlkes (OK, maybe Tremaine was left off the playoff roster, but what a travesty). In are Rodney Stuckey, Jason Maxiell, Walter Hermann (hey, he played meaningful minutes, that freakish-handed Argentian). But most importantly, in is they have the hungriest man of all. In is a guy who acts like he hasn't tasted a home-cooked meal since Larry Brown was on his eighth coaching gig. In is Antonio McDyess.

(For the sake of full disclosure, I have no journalist objectivity when it comes to Antonio McDyess. I love him like a 4-year-old loves a lollipop.)

If the Pistons lose a series in these playoffs, nobody will take it harder than McDyess. If I was his kin, I'd put him on suicide watch (or at least make sure he doesn't start thinking about signing with the Lakers). It's hard to stomach the idea of the fiercest Piston walking off the court this year with his head limply parallel to the floor. If he does, McDyess most likely will be McDone in Detroit.

But as long as he's out there and fighting (and breathing, and not throwing up), I give the Pistons a fighting chance. They're not the most talented team remaining in the playoffs. In fact, they might be the least talented. But if the past nine games (of which the Pistons won eight) are any indication, what they lack in talent they are making up for with heart.

And with this group of men, the best way to their heart is through their stomach.