Conley on the business end of NBA growing pains

Mike Conley, shown here with Utah's Deron Williams, has dealt with injuries and a whole bunch of losses in his rookie season. AP

MAILBAG Submit a comment or question for Steve. Your name: Your e-mail address: Your home town: Enter your question:

The size of Mike Conley's pond hasn't grown, exactly, but the quality of the fish sure has improved. They are swifter, stronger, leaner, meaner and much hungrier, enough so that Conley steals a nervous glance back at his tail every so often to see who's in the mood that day for seafood.

A year ago, Conley was a big fish in a big pond, the starting point guard for an Ohio State team that tore through the Big Ten schedule and the NCAA tournament with a pair of one-year wonders (Conley and even bigger fish Greg Oden). The Buckeyes, in what everyone knew was a magical, don't-blink kind of season, ran off 22 victories in a row from the middle of January through the end of March, the last in that streak coming over Georgetown in a national semifinal game at the Final Four. Led by the two freshmen stars, Ohio State shattered the school record of 27 victories by winning 35, and the 84-75 loss to repeat-champ Florida was only its fourth defeat all year.

This basketball season, Conley's team lost four times in its first five games. The Memphis Grizzlies, in five months, have won barely half as many games as the Buckeyes breezed to in 2006-07. Twenty-two in a row? Yeah, the Grizzlies have accomplished something like that; they have won two in a row, twice. Ta-dah!

No, Mike Conley's pond these days isn't any bigger. The NCAA tournament is as thrilling and high-profile as basketball gets, and Conley, Oden, Daequan Cook and the rest of the Ohio State squad shared center stage with the Gators. But the NBA is better, faster and less forgiving, a business first and a game second, more openly about do-re-mi than sis-boom-bah.

Conley's pond these days is likely to be a tight corner of an already squeezed visitors' dressing room at Target Center in Minneapolis, pom-poms and brass bands conspicuously absent. March Madness has been replaced by Memphis malaise.

He asked for this, he got it. And then some.

"It's just normal now,'' Conley said before a recent game against the Timberwolves. He smile momentarily, reminded that Corey Brewer and Chris Richard, two of Florida's college stars, were similarly stuck down the hall, playing out a dead-end season for Minnesota.

"It was fun what we went through last year,'' the 20-year-old said. "This time of year, going through the tournament and being able to get to the championship, it was an honor and one of the highlights of my life. This year is so totally different, going from a team that was so successful in college to ... not having such a successful season this year. It's been harder, having the transition to that.''

The tough transition was a given; it happens every year, thanks to the architecture of the NBA draft. The top prospects, many of whom typically come from college teams that win most often, get selected by the neediest teams, so Al Horford goes to Atlanta, Kevin Durant heads to Seattle, Oden goes to Portland (and has his first season wiped out by injury anyway), Brewer winds up in Minnesota and Conley becomes one of the Grizzlies.

Conley was the fourth player selected overall, the only point guard among the draft's top 10 picks. But he arrived in Memphis as the third point guard on the team's depth chart and, even with veteran Damon Stoudamire gone, still vies for playing time with Kyle Lowry, Javaris Crittenton and Juan Carlos Navarro. And they aren't even the most celebrated point guards in the city -- that would be Derrick Rose, freshman at the University of Memphis and likely no worse than the second player picked in this June's draft.

Odds are, of course, that Rose will go to a lousy team of his own next season and get smacked by most of the same harsh reality. Running an NBA team, out on the floor, is difficult for any point guard and the younger, generally, the tougher. The one thing a player feels he can rely on, his own offense, usually is the last thing his coach and new teammates want him leaning on.

"It's tough to be that facilitator and be aggressive at the same time,'' Conley told the Memphis Commercial Appeal the other day. "It's something I'm trying to balance.''

1 of 2