The Showtime Rockets? No, but Rick Adelman Will Make It Work

The Houston Rockets' preseason slate was a seven-game reminder of why the preseason exists.

The team marched into San Antonio for the exhibition season opener two weeks ago and racked up 17 first-half fast break points en route to a 99-85 victory.

The next night in McCallen, the Rockets treated the ball like a department store promotional giveaway.

That comeback win over the Boston Celtics was as ugly and foul-filled as they come.

Anyone not paid to watch that contest should not admit to suffering through it.

No, GM Daryl Morey did not slip me some money under the table.

The squad flew to Indiana where the Pacers handed the Rockets a thorough butt kicking. The defense was as putrid as the shot selection.

Mixed in that preseason mixed bag—a denied comeback against the Bucks, a failure to close against the Mavericks, and a 124-112 triumph, an offensive clinic, in Toronto.

On one Rockets' possession in the home loss to the Bucks, free agent signee Trevor Ariza darted into the packed lane and threw a blind pass well over the outstretched arms of Shane Battier and into the front row.

Ariza could not have known to whom or where he was passing the ball. He flung it as if to abdicate responsibility for the fate of the stale, stagnant halfcourt offense.

He convinced himself the ball was a bomb and chucked it toward the perimeter in hopes someone else would be willing to disarm it.

Next, Bucks point man Luke Ridnour ran the ball up the court and fed Andrew Bogut for an easy lay-in against center David Andersen. Houston’s Aussie import offered no resistance on the play.

These moments of offensive misdirection and missed defensive assignments by newbies inspire an understandable reaction.

THIS team…in the playoffs? You must be joking.

The Rockets face compelling questions, such as, how will a roster with no All-Star performers outduel the Phoenix Suns or anyone else for one of the final slots in the West?

One man will provide the comfort and reassurance fans seek after a gruesome offseason of loss and lowered expectations.

A glance over to the bench explains why so many writers, including this one, think the Rockets can compete for a postseason berth with Yao Ming out until 2010 training camp and Tracy McGrady out for at least a few months.

The same Rick Adelman who has turned messes into works of art is staring at one of the biggest scrap heaps of his career.

Defensive stalwart Chuck Hayes will start at center, but he’s 6’6” with no appreciable offensive skills. Reserve center Andersen possesses a nice perimeter touch, but he cannot defend a lampshade.

If there was a way to fuse the best attributes from both bigs, the Rockets could start one heck of a center in Yao’s place.

Instead, Adelman must experiment with lineups until he finds combinations in which Hayes and Andersen can contribute without sinking the offense or defense, respectively.

The body of evidence suggests the former San Diego Rocket is one of the few who could tackle the job.

For 20 years, Adelman has been an adaptive and creative pro basketball painter.

He has taken shards of broken glass, colors that usually clash, and crooked or misshapen easels and created breathtaking images.

Not all works of art are aesthetically pleasing, and few masterworks are alike.

In Portland, Adelman won with a combination of interior defensive snarl and the complete brilliance of Hall of Fame guard Clyde Drexler.

In Sacramento, he chaperoned a free-flowing, Princeton-based offense that had everyone from Vlade Divac to Chris Webber to Jason Williams to Doug Christie passing as if a winning lotto ticket accompanied each assist.

The Blazers reached the NBA Finals in 1990 and 1992 and the Conference Finals in 1991.

He transformed the Sacramento Kings from relocated never-rans to an offensive juggernaut and regular 50-win club member.

The Kings qualified for the playoffs in every one of Adelman’s seasons on the bench.

The imbecilic decision to can him after an understandable first-round flameout against the defending champion San Antonio Spurs in 2006 continues to haunt the Maloofs.

The Golden State Warriors—the only franchise he coached that failed to reach the playoffs—remained a win-challenged embarrassment after management dismissed him.

The Blazers and Kings worsened after Adelman’s departure. That testimony is indisputable.

At every stop, he has tweaked lineups and acclimated to his rosters’ strengths.

His work with the Rockets has highlighted those rare qualities.

Mike D’Antoni refuses to do anything other than run, run, run—even when his new reclamation project, the Knicks, was devoid of enough players who fit the seven-seconds-or-less system.

Don Nelson has never developed a Plan B for his shoot-first, ask-later squads.

Mike Dunleavy is more immovable than a 50-foot steel column and grumpier than a mid-40s Oscar the Grouch at a prostate exam.

Adelman does not wear any championship rings, but neither does Jerry Sloan—the only superior title-less coaching contemporary.

Can you blame the coach for the Kings' 2002 Conference Finals loss to the Lakers?

Bogus call after bogus call and clanged jumpers—many from Peja Stojakovic—allowed the champs to stay close in L.A.’s backbreaking Game Four comeback.

Did Phil Jackson’s coaching genius set up the improbable three Robert Horry drained to tie the series?

Divac, not Jackson, unintentionally tapped the ball back to Big Shot Rob.

Had Horry missed, the Kings would have carried a 3-1 series lead back to Sac Town.

Losing a Game Seven at home may serve as a blemish on Adelman’s resume, but does coming out on the wrong end of an overtime struggle make a coach incompetent?

Once compared to Adolf Hitler by Jackson in private, Adelman has always been the opposite.

Jackson is the winningest coach in NBA history. Gregg Popovich is one of the best small market coaches to ever roam the sidelines.

Entrenched in their current situations, neither was available or interested when the Rockets said “see ya” to Jeff Van Gundy.

I questioned the quick selection of Adelman then, but I would never do it again.

After an abysmal start, the 2007-'08 Rockets reeled off 22 wins in a row, second-most in league history, 10 of those coming without Yao.

They succumbed to their own limitations against the roughneck Utah Jazz in the first round.

Grit and determination could only get them so far when the chief talent had rarely exhibited either attribute, and when the streaky Rafer Alston missed the first two games of the series.

Then, for a second act, the undermanned squad—you guessed it, without McGrady and eventually Yao—won a playoff series sans home court advantage and took the Lakers to the limit.

By the time you read this, the Rockets will be 0-1, 1-0, 0-2, or 2-0.

It would be shocking if the team—adjusting to a new up-tempo style and role players with the largest job descriptions of their careers—records more assists than turnovers.

Even the staunchest supporters know this fast-break hopeful will not be suiting up Magic, Kareem, or Worthy clones.

Showtime throwbacks they are not.

There will be moments similar to Ariza’s blind, botched pass in the home loss to the Bucks.

Opponents will ride hot streaks to 15- and 20-point leads.

Many fans will wonder as I have how these discombobulated Rockets can win enough to make the playoffs.

Then, they will look over to the bench and remember why they believe.

Adelman, the man with the flexible paintbrush, is ready for his most defiant piece yet.