Nelson doesn't play Davis, but he plays us for fools

OAKLAND

I feel ashamed of myself. Why? Because Don Nelson said I should feel ashamed.

But wait. I'm getting ahead of the story, a whopper that unfolded Wednesday morning at Oracle Arena, where the non-playoff-bound Warriors were conducting their final morning shootaround of the season. They were preparing to play the Supersonics but no one who was there, and the place was crawling with writers and TV people, cared about the Sonics.

People cared about Nelson and Baron Davis, how Nelson made Davis sit on the bench the entire second half against Phoenix on Monday night, how the Warriors lost that game without the services of their best player, how the Warriors' playoffs hopes -- such as they were -- vanished right then and there and how Davis brushed off the press after the game.

OK, you got all that? Now I'm going to set the scene, show and tell how Nelson addressed the media Wednesday morning, leading up to his comments about shame.

He sat on the stage in the interview room and he was giggling and smiling. The giggling and smiling were important. They meant we were dealing with Nellie as opposed to DON NELSON, the scary, demanding, shrewd, crafty coach. Nellie is the gosh-oh-gee good ole boy who hasn't a care in the world and is everyone's best friend -- except perhaps when it comes to Davis -- and if you have the time, he'd like to play shuffleboard with you.

When I asked if it ever occurred to him that his treatment of Davis on Monday would lead to a furor among fans and media, he did the Nellie laugh and put on the happy-go-lucky Nellie face and said, "No, actually, it didn't. I was wrong, evidently." Then he Nellie-laughed again.

He never thought sitting Davis for 24 minutes in a game that decided the team's fate would cause an uproar? This is the most innocent man on Earth -- except he's not.

He said he talked to Davis on the plane home from Phoenix. What did he say?

"I just gave him knuckles. I said, 'See you tomorrow.' I had a guy that was absolutely tired, a game that to me didn't mean very much. And I told him at halftime I wasn't going to play him the rest of the game. He was playing terrible, playing tired -- mentally and physically not into it and to me there was no need to continue on. Just let the young guys play."

Some of this is plausible, I guess. But I gag on the words, "a game that to me didn't mean very much."

Really? The Warriors had not yet been eliminated from the playoffs. The players still cared. Fans still cared. Apparently team executive vice president Chris Mullin cared. He talked to the media after Nelson left on Wednesday morning. Asked if the Phoenix game didn't mean very much," he said, "I don't feel anyone felt like that."

What we have here is a failure of communication between Nelson and his boss.

Nice Nellie continued.

"I'm glad I did it," he said. "I would do it again. There's no problem between Baron and me that I know of. It's really funny to me that such a big issue is made out of this. And it would be funnier if it weren't so sad."

"Sad?" I asked.

"Sad is that you make an issue of a non-issue, the media."

Guilt. Heavy guilt trip. We're not allowed to ask. We, the media, cause trouble and louse things up. The things poor, honest Nellie has to put up with.

I asked why he didn't put Davis in at the end, when the lead slipped away and the Warriors started to lose ground and lose the game.

"That was a decision," Nelson said. "That was the only decision. Do you take a player who hasn't played and put the onus on him to win the game? Or do you let those guys who played so well continue to win or lose the game. Besides that, I thought it was interesting to see different guys in those situations."

Well, well. Nelson didn't think his best player might help at the end of the game. Does that sound conceivable to you? Do you get the feeling there was more to the story? I sure do. And that thing about playing the other guys -- Kosta Perovic, Mickael Pietrus for big minutes, ditto for Austin Croshere. Who is Nellie kidding? He never had an interest in seeing the subs in other games. And all of a sudden he became intrigued by them. Weird.

It is Nelson's prerogative to play anyone he wants any time he wants. But don't play us for fools. Maybe Davis burned him up in some private way. Maybe he noticed Davis never played much defense all year and he was getting even. Maybe he got tired of Davis' ego, and decided to assert his own big ego, maybe he was establishing the pecking order for next season -- assuming Davis does not opt out of his contract. That's all Nelson's business, but please don't talk to us like children.

And there's something else. Basketball is a game of egos. The point guard has the largest ego. He owns the ball and directs the play. Sure, it's cool to think the old-school coach -- Good Old Nellie -- put the selfish star point guard in his place. It's also important for a coach to acknowledge his star's ego and build it up. Great players need to feel special to perform in special ways. This is the psychological part of coaching, and by putting down Davis, Nelson may have risked more than he knows.

Davis could have made everything better. He was at the shootaround and the media waited for him. He walked off the court, brushed off the writers.

"I'll talk to you all later," he said.

Maybe he wasn't in the talking mood, but he knew the deal. With a sentence of two -- nothing more -- he could have shown he and the coach were still tight. When he came out of the locker room a few minutes later, he said, "You can ask me anything you want after the game. I'm not going to say anything now."

Draw your own conclusions. One thing I can say for sure. I never saw Nelson and Davis giving each other knuckles.

You can reach Staff Columnist Lowell Cohn at 521-5486 or lowell.cohn@pressdemocrat.com.