Team Dreams: Welcome to this Young Orlando Magic Moment
Eat your ulcered heart out, Scott Skiles!
Eat your ulcered heart out, Scott Skiles!
Four years later, Orlando’s Amway Center still felt the presence of departed center Dwight Howard, both in terms of how the big man impacted the franchise and his predilection towards flatulence. Things smelled eerily neutral next to Disneyland.
But without proper protective mouth gear, one could still taste the long passed ghosts of Starbursts and Skittles in the air. It was an unpleasant taste, not just for the scatalogical reasons, but because it dwelt in the past, before a four-year playoff drought and growing question marks surrounding the young pieces the Magic had assembled from the draft lottery.
When Dwight ripping ass in the locker room is a high point, things are dire. That’s what first-year Magic coach Scott Skiles felt as he strolled through the Amway Center in early May. The former Orlando point guard wrinkled his nose in disgust at the Amway logos dotting the hallways. Corporate names are a necessary evil for professional sports, but why sink so low as to opt for a pyramid scheme? He thought of the sea of vacant homes he saw in the suburbs, surrounding the orange groves and swampland that dotted the landscape of central Florida. No reasonable human being would settle here on purpose, but the presence of Disney and Universal kept the rotting black heart of the swamp city beating while its lifeblood seeped out and looked for better fortunes elsewhere. There was none to be found in the Sunshine State. This is probably why so many elderly people picked this place to die in. At least when your children stop answering your calls you can enjoy the warm weather and beaches.
On the other hand, maybe it’s the right fit for a franchise that has never delivered on its promises. Skiles thought back to his final year playing for the team, swept out of the playoffs by the Pacers in the first round. He’d begun the season as a starter and lost his job to Penny Hardaway. Penny, now there’s a world-class what-if for you, Skiles thought. Multiple surgeries had robbed Penny of his athleticism and left him a shell of himself. Derrick Rose before Derrick Rose. Penny and Grant, two of the saddest stories of Skiles era.
His morning coffee was not sitting well in his stomach. A new ulcer perhaps? Or was the front office pinching pennies again? Skiles can feel that sort of thing in his body. Also ulcers. The cream had smelled a little off, but Skiles was not one to be wasteful. He didn’t like thinking about the past, and the recent 30 for 30 on the Orlando Magic along with Shaq’s enshrinement in the Basketball Hall of Fame made avoiding it more difficult than before.
It had been a trying season, Skiles had signed up with the intention of dragging this scrappy group of youngsters to the playoffs, but they were soft as hell and unprofessional to boot. Skiles had taken to wearing a mouth guard at night. Orders from his dentist. He’d started charting the grinding of his teeth over the course of the season and realized just after the trade deadline that his incidents of highest jaw pain came directly after speaking to GM Rob Hennigan. Skiles felt his jaw seize up and his molars clacked together. Just thinking about Hennigan provoked a bodily response.
Skiles knew then that he had to get the fuck out of Orlando. There was nothing for him here, just old memories and regrets. This team was years from contending, if it ever could. At least the Sixers had their cult to distract them. And the Knicks were…well, the Knicks, but at least NYC was better than Orlando.
After watching game tape and some light cardio, Skiles flipped his TV on and clicked over to ESPN. Larry Bird had announced that Frank Vogel’s contract would not be renewed. A light bulb went on in his head, a way out of an impossible situation. It would take some time to set up.
The Pacers were a tantalizing prospect for Skiles, the intriguing core of Paul George and Myles Turner seemed to offer much more than whatever he’d tried to build with the Magic. Victor Oladipo and Elfrid Payton couldn’t coexist, and you can’t have a backcourt that can’t shoot. The front office had traded Tobias Harris for Brandon Jennings and Ersan İlyasova in an effort to clear up redundancy and nab complementary players.
And with the way Bird had handled the firing, maybe, just maybe he could get an interview for the job.
A week later, Skiles handed in his resignation letter to the franchise. It assured the public there was no hard feelings (there were) and he wasn’t the right coach for the team (true, but fuck these spoiled brats).
Skiles had escaped, but it came at a cost: per the separation agreement, as Hennigan termed it in the bloodless language of business speak, Skiles was not permitted to coach in the NBA for a number of years.
Four days later, the Pacers named Nate McMillan the new head coach. Three days after that, the Magic scooped up Frank Vogel.
Skiles had gotten out of Orlando, but at what cost. Scott Skiles, do you want to write for The Shocker?