Rashad McCants

He hits rewind on a couple of recent humbling experiences. It's the summer of '09 and McCants is growing anxious over a lack of offers, so he undertakes a quest for answers. "I've heard nothing but bad things about you," Heat coach Erik Spoelstra tells him in the midst of an informal run in Miami. At the Vegas Summer League, Mike D'Antoni says he can't give McCants a shot for fear he'd poison the Knicks' locker room. Tar Heel blood brothers Larry Brown and George Karl barely give him the time of day. Some GMs won't even get on a conference call with him. "Everybody said I wasn't a good fit," he says with genuine sadness. "It felt like I had nowhere to turn. It felt like I died."

One final ray of hope quickly vanished. McCants worked out for the Mavericks, and afterward coach Rick Carlisle asked him to see a psychiatrist. "To find out what was wrong with me," McCants says sarcastically. It was the third time a coach had made such a request. During his freshman year at UNC, coach Matt Doherty sent him to see a "friend" who happened to be a shrink. McCants says 10 minutes into the first visit he was told, "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you." Yet, the next season, new Tar Heels coach Roy Williams asked McCants again to make an appointment.

Sye Williams/ESPN The Magazine
"Just because I'm not chipper," McCants says, "like I just drank a pot of coffee, doesn't mean I'm a bad guy."

Carlisle's interest in McCants didn't last long enough for the Mavs to make him an offer, and by New Year's 2010 he'd begun to realize that the best he could do was a 10-day contract. "The fact that nobody wanted me was so frustrating," he says.

So now he's left to try to get back into the game any way he can. "Do I have to change who I am to fit into an organization?" he wonders aloud. "That's what I'm asking myself."

He also has to ask how it all went wrong.

McCants was drafted by Minnesota with the 14th pick in 2005, and his baggage seemed to arrive before he did. McCants had long been perceived as sullen, moody and aloof, and he did nothing to change perceptions in his new town. He barely smiled when introduced to season ticket-holders, while an admonishment from coaches to be on time elicited an exaggerated eye roll. He wanted you to hear that sigh from across the locker room, a reminder that he didn't think he was getting the touches he deserved.

Funny thing is, off the court he presents like any pro his age. There's the Cheshire Cat smile when he puts the smackdown on an opponent in DJ Hero, the boisterous laugh when friends hit his BlackBerry. Some nights, all the bottles go on his tab. "He's just a fun, solid dude," says Jefferson.

In his first two seasons McCants earned an on-court rep that didn't exactly sync up to the profile either: a quick-trigger shooting guard physical enough to defend small forwards. He bonded with the team's superstar, Kevin Garnett, the two frequently working out together after practice. When McCants awoke from knee surgery in 2006, KG was sitting at the foot of the bed. In 2007-08, under first-year coach Randy Wittman, McCants began to blossom, selected by his peers as a team captain. As Minnesota's second option, he routinely made highlight reels. Future All-Star was what they said. At his season-ending interview, Wittman praised his effort. Brimming with optimism, McCants spent the summer in the area, organizing workouts and early-morning sprints for his teammates.

Thinking he was in Minny for life, he bought a four-bedroom house with a big yard 20 minutes from downtown and lined the basement theater with signed jerseys from guys like Kobe and LeBron. Life was good. In New York he was often a guest of Jay-Z's at 40/40. He stood onstage with Lil Wayne, texted with Chris Paul, partied in Miami with Shaq and D-Wade. His exterior, once Velcro, was suddenly Teflon, all the negatives no longer sticking. Or so he thought.

By training camp in September 2008, the mood had shifted. McCants and Wittman were now on very different pages, and with the coach looking to put his stamp on the team, McCants' star quickly faded. He couldn't move without Wittman getting annoyed. It didn't help that McCants dribbled through his legs excessively during shootarounds. And it was hard to miss Wittman peering over his glasses with disapproval at the card games McCants organized on team flights.

Early in the preseason, McCants was driving to the airport when he realized he'd forgotten his Xbox. Knowing his teammates wanted to play on the plane, he drove home to retrieve it. When he finally boarded, three minutes late, Wittman was waiting. A week later the two had a meeting. The coach told McCants that his teammates were complaining about his selfishness. "My heart was beating so fast," says McCants. "I didn't know what the hell was happening." Then came the kicker. "You've got 11 days to prove you belong on the roster," McCants says the coach told him, from then on not speaking to his player. (Wittman denies that the meeting took place. "I have an open-door policy," he says, "and he never walked in to say I was doing him wrong.")

The situation quickly spiraled. Wittman stripped McCants of his captaincy at a team meeting, bestowing the duties on Jefferson, Mike Miller and Randy Foye. "A couple of those guys didn't even want the responsibility," says McCants, who thought Wittman was trying to break him. Stunned and embarrassed gave way to depressed and confused. "Nobody would talk to me," McCants says. "I didn't know what was going on." (Wittman says he doesn't remember the incident. "I don't even recall his being captain," he says. But several players, including Jefferson and Love, say they remember it distinctly.) His minutes withered. "He had a hard time accepting his role," says Wittman, who's now an assistant coach with the Wizards. "He'd put his head down and pout and not necessarily give 100 percent."

But after a 4-15 start, Wittman was fired and replaced by McHale. Owner Glen Taylor addressed McCants in the locker room in front of the whole team. "We all know Randy Wittman didn't like you," said Taylor. "Kevin McHale does." A changing of the guard, though, changed nothing.

On Dec. 30, after a game in Dallas, McCants flew to Vegas to spend New Year's Eve with his then-girlfriend, Khloe Kardashian. The team was off the next day, so he had time to recover, fly back and make a shootaround on Jan. 2. But McHale caught wind of his revelry and, by McCants' lights, the coach was none too pleased. "He didn't like the fact I was dating a celebrity," McCants says. "He thought I wasn't putting basketball first." (McHale insists McCants' personal life was irrelevant: "I'm old. I didn't even know who Khloe Kardashian was.")

McCants was benched for the first 14 games of 2009. By then the team had decided he wasn't in its plans. "At that point they were just doing him wrong," says Jefferson. "And there was no explanation for it." McCants' agent called daily to ask for a trade, and finally, an hour before the deadline, he was shipped off to the Kings.



David Sherman/Getty Images
McCants says McHale (right) took issue with parts of his personal life.McCants played well for his new team, averaging 10.3 points in 19.4 minutes, but a chip remained firmly planted on his shoulder. "I talked to some people in Sacramento after the fact, and they had the same problems with Rashad," says McHale. But McCants says that in an exit interview, Kings interim coach Kenny Natt told him he wished he could have done more for him. Natt, though, did have a question for McCants: "Has anyone ever told you your body language is bad? You look like you're mad at the world."



"Just because I'm not chipper like I just drank a pot of coffee doesn't mean I'm a bad guy," says McCants. And he does have his supporters. Dwane Casey, McCants' first NBA coach, says he never had a problem with Rashad. And don't get his father, James, started. James, who, with his wife, Brenda, raised Rashad and his two younger sisters in a tidy, middle-class neighborhood in Asheville, N.C., strictly enforced evening curfews and made sure his son did his chores and homework before hitting the blacktop. "He had it together as a kid," James says, "because he knew if he didn't he had to deal with me." James says people often misread his son initially but warm up once they get to know him.

It's a luxury not afforded many guys in the association. What team execs see are not-so-subtle body language cues that scream lack of interest. The slow walk back to the bench for timeouts. The thousand-yard stare. "He had the tendency to disengage," says McHale. "Unless you're incredibly, ridiculously talented, you can't get away with that." Teammates who couldn't break through the facade would go to McHale to ask if they had done something wrong. "I'd tell them, 'That's Rashad, and you just have to deal with it,'" he says. It remains a touchy subject for many involved. "He's a talented guy who played hard," says former teammate Love. "But he seemed to have his own agenda. I'm a fan of his as a player, but maybe not so much as a person." Love turns to his locker neighbor, Brian Cardinal. "Why do you think Rashad is out of the league?" he asks.

Krolik: McCants And Vegas
Rashad McCants was all set to reintroduce himself to NBA fans and scouts by playing for the Cleveland Cavaliers' Las Vegas summer league squad this week, but life got in the way. After being put on the Cavaliers' summer league roster, McCants was a no-show in Vegas. According to his agent, McCants has been tending to the family of his mother, who has serious health issues.

 

His agent said McCants would come to Vegas ready to perform Sunday and attend Tim Grgurich's camp the following Monday, but not everyone is on board with that plan. If McCants does play Sunday, it won't be with the Cavaliers.

"He's missed the whole time, so we're not going to bring him in here for one game, to play in that game, instead of the people who have been here for day one. No, we wouldn't play him," Cavaliers coach Byron Scott said.

Scott went on to explain why he gave the former UNC standout a camp invite in the first place:

"He's a guy that's been in the league, that understands how to score. He's a true 2-guard; he has some skills. So we thought inviting him to play with the team, inviting him out to Cleveland could have been beneficial to him -- not only for us, but it would have given some other teams a chance to look at him."

-- JOHN KROLIK, ESPN TRUEHOOP
"I'm not touching that," Cardinal says before walking away. Another player, who declined to be named, walks up and slaps his own arms. "Because of these right here," he says referring to McCants' tattoos. "He lives by those." On their old teammate's right biceps is written BORN TO BE HATED, on the left DYING TO BE LOVED. "On the floor he was cocky and arrogant a lot of the time," says Foye. "Other times he just kept to himself. His motivations were maybe different than everybody else's." McHale pauses when asked if McCants was interested in making friends. "You know, I don't know."
Down a grimy, narrow street in the Valley crammed with third-rate auto body shops sits a red-brick health club. This is where the baby steps of McCants' comeback are taken. Since November he has worked out six days a week under the watchful eye of training guru Joe Abunassar. On a mild winter afternoon, McCants enters the gym dressed in a skintight black bodysuit and Jordan shorts. There are diamond studs in his ears, and the flat brim of another Yankees cap is cocked to the side. The gait is that of a world-class athlete. And from the broad shoulders to the slim waist, the V-shape torso is what scouts mean when they talk about an NBA body.

McCants' massive hands cradle the ball, covering it like water over the earth's surface. As he begins shooting drills one thing fast becomes evident: This game does not belong on this floor. The near flawless mechanics -- squared shoulders, high release, perfect follow-through -- are designed for an NBA arena. Nowhere in the change-of-direction dribbles and stepbacks is movement wasted. With each feathery shot, his presence here becomes all the more strange. "When I met him I asked what he did to piss everybody off," says Abunassar. "I said, 'You must have been a real ass. Did you blow up somebody's house?'" GMs may not love McCants, but they're all over Abunassar. "They don't ask about his game," he says. "They ask about his head. I tell them all he needs is the chance."



McCants knows it, too. Six months ago he scoffed at the idea of a 10-day contract. Four months ago the D-League was beneath him. But his extended unemployment has melted his stubbornness. In its place is a new financial reality. McCants lives comfortably but far from the lifestyle he once enjoyed. Aside from his rented pad, a Mercedes-Benz CL 63 AMG and Yukon Hybrid, he has few obligations. His house in Minnesota has been up for sale for over a year. "Tough market," he says with irony. Many of his perks have dried up. He bought the Nikes stacked in boxes around his apartment. He eats at Subway and Panda Express, or makes sandwiches on wheat bread. His only extravagances are those lime-green video game cases that litter his apartment. And acting classes. He sees himself on the silver screen one day. "It's about letting yourself go and becoming someone else entirely," he says.

But he knows the NBA isn't waiting for him. He knows it's his move. "You know," McCants begins slowly, "if they want me to smile ... I'll do it." He sits back in his chair and promptly undermines the declaration he has just made. "But I won't ever change being me." That stubbornness led to a parting of the ways with his agent, so these days, McCants takes matters into his own hands. He calls GMs himself. He tells them he wants to look them in the eye. He knows he has to sell himself. He really does care about what people think. And instead of waiting for a camp invite, he's accepted an offer to play summer league with the Cavs -- for around $100 a day. At least it'll give him more time to prove his worth. "D-League, Europe, anything," says McHale. "He can't take any more time off; he has to play." Above all he has to change people's minds. "Make the changes you need to survive," McCants' father advises. "And if you have to, use some of your acting stuff."

Yeah, humility stings like a son of a bitch. There are no more calls from Lil Wayne or Jay-Z. Chris Paul is harder to reach, too. It's what happens when you're on the outside looking in.

McCants dreams of carving out a niche as a sixth man. It's a good living, he thinks, and he knows he's up to the task. "There isn't a 2-guard in the league who can guard me," he says. "Not one."

Back at the practice gym his high-arching rainbows drop through the net like an Olympic diver who barely disturbs the water. A few more, and McCants walks off the floor and takes a swig of mango-flavored Gatorade. "Another day, another dollar," he says.



If only that were true.

 

thanks !

 

There wasn't a reason for sly to post his comment, since that's the only time he makes a comment on the forums now. I quoted him, not you, so not sure why you are getting upset. I like to banter with Sly, don't be so sensitive when it's not directed towards you. Henderson is what he is at the moment, and certainly didn't deserve to be picked where he was to this point, but hopefully he can carry some of the summer league into real games.

 

Maybe we should talk about players that have actually had time to prove whether or not they deserved to be picked where they were, like Wright and Williams instead of a player coming off his rookie season.

But that is probably beyond a moron like you.

By the way, the answer to both of the above is hell fucking no.

 

If it were reversed and a UNC player in the same situation you would do the same thing and have done the same thing several times. Just try not to go into fucking hiding again in the future when circumstances change.

 

oh, sly's back?

cute

 

Well it did take puke winning a national title for him to grow a nut sack.

 

McCants has always been his own worst enemy. When he played for the Heels he used to piss me off with the facial expressions and the body language but when the game was on the line he was the one guy I wanted to have the ball. With all the assholes in the NBA these days it's hard to believe he can't get a job.

 

i heard he is the ghei