The Buy-Out: A Sam Cassell Story

Sam Cassell has long been a model of integrity and leadership in the NBA. Aside from his many gutsy playoff performances and battle-tested track record, his "locker room skills" are held in even higher value. He is lauded as a "coach on the floor", to the point that franchises considered adding him with an easy transition the front office in mind.

So why would a player of such high regard literally hold his franchise hostage? Moreover, in this penalty-friendly NBA, how could he even be allowed to?

* * *

Let's be blunt: when you saw Sam Cassell, the first thing you noticed was his looks. But not in the James Bond-type of way. It was as if a space alien burned up on atmospheric entry, only to jump from his wrecked vehicle and start talking trash. But, despite his brimming confidence and room-filling ego, well..he could definately play ball. His jumper was as silky as it was spontaneous, he was quick and adept off the dribble, and as a loud-mouth rookie he ran his Rockets headlong into the playoffs...and made off with two titles.

Most of the teams he played for improved its record after acquiring him. They had a court general with a textbook shot, someone who could be trusted to call and execute an offense while not getting too caught up in media drama or off-court disputes. In total, he carried four teams into the playoffs, three of which - the Bucks, Timberwolves, and Clippers - are franchises known lately for their perennial doormat status rather than for postseason runs. And he actually led the Clippers to a playoff round victory...which is saying something.

He has averaged 16 points and 6 assists throughout his career, and was even an All-Star. And now, he wants to play for a contender. Why shouldn't he get his wish?

So, he demanded a buy-out of his contract with the Los Angeles Clippers, a team that courted him thoroughly during his free agency and offered him a lucrative contract - especially concerning his age and the fact his back was as sturdy as a dorm room futon. Yes, he demanded a buy-out, despite the fact that he had signed with them for two more seasons.

To be blunt, he demanded that the Clippers tear up his contract AND pay him money to go play somewhere else. Because, well, the Clippers were ridden with injuries, and he couldn't waste his few remaining active years on a losing team.

Doesn't seem too contrite, does it? Not, "let's help build for the next season" like his Clipper teammate Elton Brand. One season away from a second-round exit, and he gives up hope?

I mean, half the players in the NBA are technically playing on losing teams, right?

Enter Donald Sterling, the owner of the LA Clippers. In the NBA, he plays the miser, the Montgomery Burns of owners, with a reputation of not giving a darn about popular opinion. After realizing sometime in the late 1980's that he could still make money with a losing team, he became notorious for opting out on high-priced free agents and avoiding the luxury tax like it was bird flu.


And so, Sam-I-Am asks Sterling out of his contract.

Sure, says Sterling. Go chase your dreams aside Kevin Garnett. You two are good friends, so we all saw this coming.

So, how about a $6.1 million settlement? asks Sam.

Yeah, we're not doing that, says Sterling.

See, Donald Sterling may be acutely spendthrift, but he's no fool. Truth be told, there is no legal reason why he should let Cassell out of the contract in the first place. To chase his dream? Or to cop out on one team scenario, disregard contracts, abandon teammates who counted on you, and chase the double paycheck when injuries turned your season south?

You can leave, Sterling said, but without the money. Cassell was lucky to get offered much.

* * *

Imagine a scenario outside of sports where abandoning a contract is acceptable. Phone companies and cable providers fine you. Your job would dock pay, you'd lose your 401K, and you can forget about that recommendation. Heck, even pro wrestlers have to keep passionately under-acting until they can run out their contract and become B-grade movie stars. And why? Because it is a legally binding agreement. To break contract is to break a business pact, and in pro sports there are teams, fans, coaches, and million-dollar ad campaigns that are built in accord with that pact.

In this case, take Al Thorton, a rookie forward who shows as much promise as any young player in the league. What does this buy-out mean for him? Aside from the tutelage Cassell could have provided him, he has also lost a team leader, a play maker, a passer, and all the other qualities that starting-point-guard Sam Cassell would provide that would increase Thorton's own production value. Because Sam Cassell is not on the court, games will be lost. So how is that fair to Al? To any of the Clippers?

Never mind the budding legion of Clippers fans that are left with nothing but a hole at the Point. As if being a Clipper fan was ever easy.

* * *

Consider this a call to David Stern. He and the league should consider the ramifications and general turmoil caused by this type of demand, one that is getting more popular by the day. Why even allow it? And what is stopping half the players in the league to pick up shop and move to where the Garnetts, Kobes and LeBrons play? And what about the teams that have to face them? This scenario reeks ten different ways.

In the end, yes, Sam Cassell got half his remaining salary, about $850,000. And yesterday, after taking some time for a funeral, he suited up for the Celtics; the green and white jersey looked ill-fitting on a man who's own body can be described similarly.

He scored no points. But at least he was on a contender again.