Talent’s Broad Shoulders: The Dark Axiom

In 2002, when Qyntel Woods unexpectedly survived twenty David-Stern-trips-to-the-podium without hearing his name, the Portland Trail Blazers excitedly drafted the 6-8 forward from Northeast Mississippi Community College.

By all accounts, Woods' level of talent was a steal as the 21st overall pick in the draft. But Woods' personality and reputation as a troublemaker was the reason he fell to the Blazers, while names like Ryan Humphrey, Curtis Borchardt, and Bostjan Nachbar flashed on the big board before his own.

The league's caution was well-founded, while Portland's optimism could only be described as short-lived. On the Trail Blazers — or "Jail Blazers," of late — a team that has featured Ruben Patterson, Zach Randolph, Damon Stoudamire, and all of their legal baggage, Woods has found a way to stand out.

Following a violation of the league's substance abuse policy and a no-contest plea to a marijuana possession charge, Woods admitted in court that he had "mistreated" his pit bull and plead guilty to the charge of first-degree misdemeanor animal abuse. According to the charge brought against him, Woods arranged bloody pit bull fights in his home. The Blazers almost immediately waived him, claiming that he had breached his contract by engaging in conduct that was detrimental to the team.

Now, in a seemingly oxymoronic NBA development from Friday's wire, the Eastern Conference-leading Miami Heat have signed oft-troubled but surely-talented Qyntel Woods.

Steve Patterson, president of the maligned Blazers' franchise, had no choice. For years, the Blazers have been attempting to clean up their image in the city of Portland following public outcry pertaining to the Blazers players' behavior. Woods embodied the Portland public's frustration with the players, so he needed to go. Plus, the Blazers had a chance to avoid paying him the $1.1 million they were to pay him for the 2004-2005 season, the final year of his contract.

Conversely, the Miami Heat are 31-13. They seem to play in front of maximum capacity crowds every home game, and they boast arguably the best little man-big man combination in all of basketball: Dwayne Wade and Shaquille O'Neal. Broken, they're not. So why bring in Woods during this renaissance season?

Terms of the signing have not yet been disclosed, but you can bet that Woods saw a reduction in salary from the $1.1 million he was scheduled to earn. Financially, it's a low-risk signing for Miami. Plus, Woods is undoubtedly more skilled than his 3.1 points per game career average suggests. Even if Woods is a locker room menace, he is easily expendable.

In fact, Heat coach Stan Van Gundy has already endorsed the team's newest member with every agent's worst nightmare: an apology. "How many of us at 18 or 20 make a lot of mistakes?"

Only later, praise: "He's a very athletic young guy who's got good skills putting the ball on the floor."

Even Shaquille O'Neal said that Woods would make the Heat slightly better as a team.

But this bizarre situation only illuminates an axiom of the NBA as a business: talent will always be welcomed, even when attached to significant personal — and even criminal — baggage.

Woods is not alone. In recent years, high-risk, high-talent players have found homes in the NBA despite serious and/or multiple transgressions in their personal lives. Eddie Griffin, Latrell Sprewell, and the aforementioned Blazers are all paid at a level equal to their talent, minus the chance that their playing career will either be disappointing or end early as a result of their personality and/or chosen lifestyle.

And how about Ron Artest, Stephen Jackson, Jermaine O'Neal, and others involved in the melee in Detroit with fans? O'Neal's sentenced was reduced on appeal, and Jackson has already said that he has not changed a bit from his experience, other than vowing to stay out of the stands in the future.

Artest is the most volatile player in the NBA, but also one of the most talented. He is a tireless worker that will always have a job in the NBA as long as he wants it. When he returns to the Pacers, they'll welcome him back alongside Jackson and O'Neal. The talent, plus the baggage, will be back on the floor. And as long as the Pacers' fans remain loyal to these three, the Indiana brass will do what's necessary to re-sign them. Talent wins.

This dark axiom is not limited to the NBA. In 1998, Leonard Little, while driving drunk, fatally wounded a mother of two from Missouri in a crash. Six years later, he was busted again for drunk driving; nevertheless, Leonard Little remains a paid starter for the St. Louis Rams. Meanwhile, Theo Fleury received numerous chances to play in the NHL despite a history of substance abuse and disorderly behavior that often placed him at odds with the law. And Major League Baseball provides the most cynically comical example of the dark axiom with its steroid abuse "scandal." Jason Giambi admitted to using steroids in the past. Barry Bonds admitted the same.

So why is it that the New York Yankees are seeking to void the multimillion dollar contract of Giambi, thereby waiving their financial responsibility to Giambi and severing their ties with the former American League Most Valuable Player, while the San Francisco Giants have sought no such action against Bonds?

Maybe the Yankees are taking the moral high road here, sacrificing the team's interest for the good of the game and its integrity. Surely, Giambi's shrinking physique, mysterious string of illnesses in 2004, and pathetic offensive numbers had nothing to do with New York's decision. And, just as surely, Bonds' 2004 MVP season and impending attack on Hank Aaron's home run record — think of the ticket sales and revenue opportunities — have not been considered in the Giants' front office when such questions of integrity and morality are at stake.

The dark axiom casts a very real shadow in the fantasy world of professional sports. The interested paying public must contend with a decision: understand and watch the callousness grow, or shun it completely for bliss.

It's a question all fans of the Miami Heat now face, knowing that Qyntel Woods' talent was not sweet enough to make his baggage palatable to the Portland fans, and thereby the Portland front office. The dark axiom alone delivered him to Miami, a team of "good" guys who do nothing to embarrass the franchise and its fans. If the Woods experiment is a success, Miami fans may want to curb their glee; for one Qyntel Woods could turn into two or three, and coupled with a few seasons of mediocrity, the Miami fans would be ripe turn on Portland's reject as quickly as the fans of the Blazers.