For Pete's sake, read this and tell me you're still optimistic...

["Berry, Mark S" <berrym@xxxxxxxxxxxx>]

There's no defending this trade. It's impossible. Everything I read just
makes me feel worse. Vin Baker is exactly the kind of player I hate-soft,
weak-minded, no-heart... everything the Celtics weren't this year. I can't
believe this has happened.

Anyway, here's another ringing endorsement from Frank Hughes of the Tacoma
News Tribune...

Mark

Commentary: Congrats, McIlvaine, you aren't the worst Sonic in history
anymore 
Frank Hughes; The News Tribune 
Two years ago, Vin Baker was being interviewed by several reporters when one
asked this question: "Are you worried that you will be remembered like Jim
McIlvaine?" 
"Man, that is cold," one of the other reporters said before Baker could
answer the question, letting the Seattle SuperSonics forward off the hook.
As it turns out, Baker's legacy in Seattle will forever be considered worse
than that of McIlvaine's.
Because it's one thing for a man to make a lot of money when he is not
terribly talented; in that instance, he was simply the beneficiary of good
fortune.
It is quite another for a man to openly and carelessly waste the talent he
has. That, in many fans' eyes, is an unforgivable sin, and that is what the
name Vin Baker will forever conjure up in the Pacific Northwest.
In a way, it is a shame, because Baker was truly one of the nicest guys you
could ever meet. Even when he was angry, he could not be mean.
But it is that side of his enigmatic personality that many thought was his
ultimate downfall. He wanted to be liked, he needed constant confirmation of
that, and nobody can live up to that pressure.
When Sonics coach Nate McMillan was asked on Monday why Baker's time in
Seattle ultimately failed, he pointed out the difference in Baker at home
and on the road.
"When the team was on the road, he was more relaxed and he wasn't afraid to
make mistakes," McMillan said. "But at home, sometimes I would walk into the
locker room and I could tell before the game what kind of night he was going
to have. He wanted to please everybody."
McMillan also spoke vaguely of a fragile psyche that made Baker's confidence
fill up like a balloon, and leak away just as easily.
"Each night was different," McMillan said. "When he saw the ball go in the
basket, you could see the confidence grow. When he missed a shot ... . He
just didn't want to fail, and therefore he wasn't as aggressive at home as
he was on the road."
On the one hand, you want to feel sorry for Baker for possessing a brittle
ego that could shatter so easily.
But on the other hand, it was self-imposed. At a charity game in Atlantic
City during the lockout year of 1999, you could see when Baker showed up
that he was overweight. He had a double chin, his face was fuller, his
behind was more prominent. That Shawn Kemp was so much more out of shape
overshadowed Baker's condition, but he clearly had let himself go.
Then when the season finally began that February, Baker became a mere shadow
of himself, unable to execute any of the interior moves that had made him a
four-time All-Star, and apparently unwilling to do the extra work required
to get back into shape.
That should have been a sign. And for new coach Paul Westphal, it was. He
argued against issuing Baker a big contract, advising the team to make Baker
prove he could take off the weight.
But others in the organization with more say eventually decided to give
Baker $86 million, and the message was sent: You don't have to work, and
we'll still pay you.
And so while Baker told everybody publicly that he was working hard, he was
really going out late at night and partying, getting further out of shape,
and losing any inspiration he once may have had.
His relationship with Westphal deteriorated to the point that it became
irreparable, even as Westphal tried every inspirational technique he could
devise. Baker only took offense to it and, knowing he had his money, ignored
Westphal.
The league was notified that Baker might have had a problem with alcohol,
and the NBA sent counselors to help Baker. When he was confronted by The
News Tribune, he claimed he was depressed, even as those within the
organization shook their heads in disgust and dismay.
Eventually, Westphal was fired but left pointing the finger at Baker as the
reason for the team's implosion. Even under McMillan, Baker failed to regain
any semblance of his form, and eventually the team announced they were going
to trade him.
To no avail. They could find no takers. And another year went by with Baker
stating he would play better, and fans, teammates and coaches waiting,
becoming more impatient.
Now, the Celtics have relieved the basketball fans of the Northwest of one
of their biggest scapegoats and punching bags.
There will be a few good images, such as the one when Baker beat the Michael
Jordan-led Chicago Bulls with a 17-foot jumper his first season here.
But mostly there will be poor memories, such as the first time Baker cried
because he was yanked in the fourth quarter by Westphal; such as the time he
missed his first 18 free throws of the season; such as the time Gary Payton,
his best friend on the team, screamed at him in practice and called him a
"fake all-star," forcing Baker to the locker room crying.
And the happiest man around? McIlvaine, who is now firmly ensconced in
second place as the team's worst dollar-for-dollar experience.