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Baston's error must be kept in perspective

-- Michigan men's basketball coach Steve Fisher, March 10, on the Wolverines' speculation about where they might play in the NCAA tournament.

MILWAUKEE -- It would have
been nice for Maceo Baston. He
would have gone home to Dallas, played in front of his family, introduced his teammates to his friends back home. He would show the Wolverines around his hometown. They would have had a good time in Dallas.

Now, a week later, Baston probably doesn't even want to go there himself.

With 3.2 seconds left in Michigan's first-round game against Texas on Friday, Baston called a timeout his team didn't have, and as his hands came together the Wolverines' chances came crumbling apart.

The sound of the referee's whistle was immediate and final. Technical foul, Michigan. Two free throws, Texas. The Longhorns nailed them both. Boom, boom. End of season, Michigan. Texas moves on. Baston is moved to tears.

"I didn't know we didn't have any left," Baston said. "When I heard my teammates saying `No! No!' my heart just dropped."

Suddenly, a trip back to Dallas holds different connotations. Maceo Baston will hear about the timeout from high school friends, from Texas fans, from almost everybody. All he did was make a mistake, but when you make a mistake on national television, you're not allowed to forget.

Baston stayed on the court for the final 3.2 seconds, unable to stop crying. He will be reminded of his mistake constantly. People will joke about his error, laugh at his expense. Maceo Baston, six feet and nine inches of determination, will be reduced to a punchline.

It's important to remember two things here. Michigan almost certainly would have lost if Baston hadn't called timeout. And the Wolverines never would have been close to winning if Baston hadn't played. Baston scored 23 points and grabbed 15 rebounds. He was virtually unstoppable.

"Maceo had a terrific, terrific game," Fisher said.

Maceo Baston almost won the game for his team. In the dim mind of some sports fans, he lost it. It's not fair. That doesn't seem to matter.

"I told him not to worry about it," forward Maurice Taylor said. "We didn't want to turn our back on a teammate because of a mistake. It was a mistake anyone could make."

It was a mistake anyone could make. Michigan fans know that all too well. Three years ago, the best player in the Wolverines' recent history made the same mistake in the national title game.

"We got the ball," Chris Webber said after his team lost to North Carolina, trying to piece together the five seconds he would remember for the rest of his life, "and I dribbled, and then ... I cost our team the game."

Call it fate or coincidence, but Webber has been a different person since his timeout. Before that loss, he was an All-American, a player with seemingly limitless potential, a star who was achieving so much so early it was stunning. He was virtually unstoppable.

Today, he has become almost a tragic figure. His feud with coach Don Nelson at Golden State has tarnished his reputation. His shoulder keeps separating. He has been sent to the sidelines while contemporaries of similar talent have exceeded him in stature. Grant Hill has surpassed Webber in popularity, even in Webber's home state. His Fab Five and Washington Bullet teammate Juwan Howard is an NBA All-Star.

Webber is forced to sit and watch. It's not his fault; his shoulder just keeps getting hurt. It's an injury anyone could have. It's not fair. That doesn't seem to matter.

Even now, Chris Webber, six feet and nine inches of pure talent, is best known for calling timeout.

Twice in four years, Michigan's season has ended when a Wolverine called a timeout his team didn't have. Fisher downplays the irony.

"This is totally unlike what happened (three) years ago," Fisher said.

Let's hope so.

-- Michael Rosenberg can be reached over e-mail at mcr@umich.edu.