RAY ALLENS ROUTINE

The routine

The routine is paramount. People don't understand that. They see Ray Allen, his head meticulously shaved, his jersey tucked carefully into his shorts, his socks pulled up to precisely the same length, and they are drawn to his silky jumper. Can you blame them? It is so smooth, so fluid, so seemingly effortless.

Everyone wishes they could shoot like Ray. They tell him that all the time. They are envious, they say, of his God-given talent.

"An insult," says Allen. "God could care less whether I can shoot a jump shot."

As the Celtics kick off their campaign for an NBA championship tonight in the opening round of the playoffs against the Atlanta Hawks, Allen will leave nothing to chance. He will line up for the tip exactly as he has for his other 73 games. His pregame ritual does not waver: a nap from 11:30 a.m. until 1 p.m., a meal of chicken and white rice at 2:30, an arrival time at the gym at precisely 3:45 to stretch. Allen will shave his head, then walk out to the court at exactly 4:30. He will methodically take shots from both baselines, both elbows, and the top of the key.

Allen is second all-time in 3-pointers, 460 shy of Reggie Miller. He has a chance of surpassing Miller, provided he stays healthy, but if he does, it will not be by divine intervention. It will be the result of years of painstaking preparation.

It will also be the byproduct of learning to strike a delicate balance between routine and superstition.

"I had a borderline case of OCD [obsessive compulsive disorder]," Allen explains. "I was never diagnosed, but it was something I was aware of."

This is how Ray Allen's mind works. If there is a speck of paper on the floor in his house, he cannot walk by without picking it up. He has tried. He has purposely marched up the stairs without correcting the glaring imperfection, but he's unable to eliminate the image from his mind until he goes back down, throws the scrap in the wastebasket, and restores order in his home.

He requires the same symmetry in his basketball universe.

Communicate, compromise

There was considerable discussion before the season on how Pierce, Allen, and Kevin Garnett would share shots.

It didn't occur to anyone, except their coach, to consider how they would share their personal space.

The wildly divergent rituals of the three superstars was a surprise - and, initially, a problem.

"As a team," Allen concedes, "we're all inside a bubble. Each of us only has so much room to operate. You have to carve out your space and recognize that because of someone else's needs, you might have to compromise a bit."

There's the free-wheeling Pierce, who never does anything quite the same from game to game. There is Allen, who needs to complete a specific checklist of chores before tipoff. And then there is Garnett, a brooding pregame figure who requires an intense period of introspection to prepare himself.

It was inevitable that their approaches would collide. In early December, Garnett was at his locker, alone, silently visualizing his responsibilities for the game. Allen, who had long ago completed his pregame tasks, was joking with Kendrick Perkins and Rajon Rondo. The noise interrupted Garnett's concentration. He barked his objections; his veteran teammate barked back.

"They got into it with each other," reports Rondo. "Me and Perk were sitting there going, 'Whoa, what's this about?' "

Pierce observed the verbal skirmish with amusement.

"Stuff like that happens on teams all the time," Pierce insists. "Different personalities. But Ray's to blame. He's crazy. One night he gets on the plane and says, 'Paul, you're in the wrong seat.' I told him, 'Man, there's a hundred seats open. Leave me alone.' "

Ray's obsession with routine has struck a chord with Rondo, who confesses, "I probably have OCD myself." The point guard must wash his hands twice at the nine-minute mark of every game. When teammates and fans high-five him, he offers a closed fist to ward off germs.

Allen has become his role model, and Rondo has started showing up at the arena three hours before the game to mimic Ray's routine.

"I want to be consistent," explains Rondo, "and Ray is all about that."

Allen's mantra is that you must walk, talk, eat, and dress as though you are the best.

"Ray is very strong-minded," Garnett says. "When you have other guys who are as strong, obviously you are going to have debates. But I think the young guys can see we can challenge one another without being destructive.

"I'm not going to say it was easy, but it was simple. Communicating is the best thing we do. A lot of people talk to hear themselves talk. Here, guys talk with their soul."

But coach Doc Rivers needed his trio to listen with the same fervor. His three stars were used to going about things in their own way, with teammates who deferred to them. That was no longer possible, and Rivers knew who would suffer the most.

"Earlier in the year, Ray would come to me and say, 'This is the way I used to do it,' " Rivers says. "I'd tell him, 'That's in the past.' Ray is a military guy. It was hard for him.

"But I told him if we were going to win this thing, he had to change."

'Hollywood' to Seattle

When Ray Allen was 8, he had to drop in five lefty layups and five righty layups before he could leave the gym. Sometimes another team needed the floor and he'd run out of time before he could complete his ritual.

"I cried," Allen says. "It messed up my day."

He did not discuss his compulsion with his teammates, his coaches, his siblings, or even his mother.

"I was almost embarrassed by it," Allen says. "It was just always beating inside my brain when I was young and trying to make sense of who I was."

They nicknamed him "Hollywood" when he arrived at the University of Connecticut because he was always color-coordinated, always meticulously groomed. He looked like someone important.

"I got that from Michael Jordan," Allen says. "When I was a kid, every time he did an interview on television, he was wearing a suit. He looked professional. I told myself, 'That's the way to go.' "

Ray plotted his workouts as if he were one of the coaches. Calhoun would show the team game film and Allen would ask to see it again, not because he needed to, but because he knew his teammates hadn't paid proper attention.

"It's internal," says Calhoun, "but it's there 24 hours a day. Ray does things the right way, and expects others to do them, too. People are sloppy - in their preparation, in the way they present themselves.

"Not Ray. Never."

So Allen harangues Garnett about his sweater-and-tie combos, and the omnipresent Adidas logo on everything he wears. He chastises Eddie House for shooting halfcourt shots at intermission at the opposing team's basket.

He talks to Perkins and Glen Davis about their social life. Allen doesn't drink alcohol. He reminds the young big men, "You have all summer to go out. Do it then. Not now. Not with so much at stake."

"Ray says he always packs light," Perkins says, "because he leaves his nightclub clothes at home."

Allen is certain his philosophy works. When he played in Seattle, a veteran leader among a mass of young, floundering talent, he would complete his pregame pattern, then retreat to the locker room where he'd read, often for more than an hour, before anyone else showed up.

Rashard Lewis, a young forward who jumped to the NBA from high school, began quizzing Allen about his routine. Soon he started showing up early, too. Before long, Damien Wilkins, Chris Wilcox, and Luke Ridnour joined them. Ray was the pied piper of preparation.

"It got to the point," says former Seattle coach Nate McMillan, "where the first bus was more crowded than the second bus. And that never happens."

Allen started a ritual of a halfcourt huddle at the end of games. He didn't just talk to the Sonics about being professional, he showed them how to be professional.

"Ray had a really big influence on me," says Lewis, who now plays for the Orlando Magic. "He knew I had the potential to be a great player, but, as he told me, it's the little things that can hold you back.

"So much of who I am today is from Ray. He helped me become an All-Star."

Not everybody in Seattle bought into Allen's plan. One day, when he arrived at the arena, Allen's regular parking spot was occupied. The owner of the car was Antonio Daniels, who had recently latched on to the early-bird shooting.

"I walk in and say, 'Why are you parking in my spot?' " Allen says. "He is acting like he doesn't know what I am talking about.

"We are playing the Knicks that night. I think I had about 40 points, but I'm still mad. I'm at the free throw line and Daniels comes up to me and says, 'You need me to take that spot more often.' I hit the free throw, then turn to him and shout, 'You stay out of my spot!' "

McMillan was worried after so many losses that his young players might abandon the Allen plan. But even after a double-digit loss, there was Allen, his head shaved, his shirt tucked in, reading a book, prepared to fight again.

"He made my job easy," McMillan says. "No matter what happened the night before, I could always say, 'Ray's here. He's ready. How about you?' "

Buying into concessions

The Celtics have asked Ray Allen to reinvent himself this season. He plays fewer minutes, takes fewer shots, is no longer the focal point of the offense.

"You see him sacrifice," says Perkins, "and you think, 'If he can do it, then I can do it, too.' "

Those changes were palatable for Ray. But he got frustrated when Rivers changed the team shootaround from the morning of the game to three hours before the game. And when Davis's minutes dwindled, and the coaches asked him to put in workouts before and after games, that cut into Allen's alone time on the floor.

"The last time I talked to Ray, he was ticked at Big Baby for not playing better, because he was messing up his pregame," Calhoun says. "I said to Ray, 'You've been in this league 12 years. Don't you have this down by now?' "

Allen is pleased that Rondo has become his pregame partner. He noted that Pierce, who ribs him the most about his eccentricities, has showed up early himself from time to time. In the meantime, Allen has worked to respect KG's ritual from afar.

"I've watched Ray," Garnett says. "I've watched Paul, and we all have our own way of preparing. All of us are excessive in how we go about it. It makes sense to me. Everybody is a little over the top in what they do, because it means so much."

When the Celtics played in Orlando earlier this season, Allen was at the arena at his customary time. He was surprised to see a lone Magic player working down at the other end of the floor - until he realized it was Rashard Lewis.

The word in Seattle is that Ridnour, Wilkins, and Wilcox have continued their pregame routine. McMillan, now the coach of the Portland Trail Blazers, reports that he imparted Allen's pregame wisdom to young All-Star Brandon Roy, who is so pleased with the results that he doesn't even wait for the first bus anymore. He goes a half-hour earlier by cab with an assistant coach.

The Celtics have benefited most from Allen, who admits he's made more concessions this season than all the others combined.

"Our young guys are lucky to be around him. Too often these kids make it to the NBA and they settle. Ray won't let them."

Pierce says he plans to adopt some of Allen's eating habits and offseason workouts.

The bubble he calls the Boston Celtics can get cluttered. Very cluttered. But, according to Ray's careful calculations, there is still plenty of space inside for a championship trophy.

TYSON CHANDLER

Chandler, the fiery defensive anchor and emotional leader in his first season with the Mavs, is a top priority for Dallas to resign. The 7-foot-1 center provided Dallas with an athletic, defensive-minded big man for the first time in Dirk Nowitzki's 13 seasons.

He will be a highly sought-after free agent and will command a hefty salary.

"Tyson Chandler changed our season on a lot of levels," Mavs coach Rick Carlisle said. "It wasn't just his play. It was his enthusiasm, his energy. He just brought a certain exuberance to our locker room and he was always a guy who was talking about accountability. He was talking about it, preaching it and it got other guys in the locker room on board with keeping each other accountable.

"Because, if you don't have a team that polices itself, you can't win an NBA championship."

Chandler averaged a near-double-double with 10.1 points and 9.4 rebounds, while earning NBA All-Defensive second team honors and finishing third in voting for the league's Defensive Player of the Year.

DIRK'S ENCORE

Dirk Nowitzki's borderline insane work ethic has always been driven by two dreams.

He lived one in 2008, when he led Germany to the Olympics, carrying his country's flag during opening ceremony. He accomplished the other days ago, when his Dallas Mavericks put the finishing touches on the franchise's first championship.

Now what for Nowitzki?

"You think he's going to work less?" teammate Peja Stojakovic asked, laughing at such a silly notion. "No way."

Teammates don't expect Dirk Nowitzki's passion to change just because he got his title.

That's the consensus opinion in the Mavericks' organization. Never mind that Nowitzki, with his Finals MVP trophy within arm's reach, openly wondered whether he would have worked as hard if he won a title earlier in his career.

Maybe that was the champagne talking. After all, this is a guy who abstains from alcohol all season. Heck, it was news that he celebrated the Western Conference semifinals sweep of the two-time defending champion Los Angeles Lakers by eating a couple of slices of pizza, cheating on his strict diet.

As far as Mavericks concerns go, Dirk's ability to maintain his maniacal motivation ranks somewhere below whether billionaire owner Mark Cuban can afford the giant $90,000 bottle of Aces of Spades champagne the German guzzled from while celebrating at a Miami Beach club in the wee hours of Monday morning.

"I don't think you're going to see any less of a competitive Dirk with the hunger to win a championship next year," said Mavs president of basketball operations Donnie Nelson, the man most responsible for bringing Nowitzki to Dallas 13 years ago. "That's not part of this guy's DNA."

Added coach Rick Carlisle: "Guys like Dirk Nowitzki, Jason Kidd, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Michael Jordan -- these guys are wired a certain way. And they're uncompromising with how they approach their preparation to play."

If anything, the Mavericks brass hopes Nowitzki relaxes a little. He turns 33 on Sunday, and while Dallas' decision-makers are confident Nowitzki has at least a few more prime seasons left in his ground-bound game, rest becomes more important as he ages.

Nowitzki has relaxed more than ever the past couple of summers, when he finally granted Cuban's requests to not compete in international tournaments. Instead, Nowitzki makes a daily drive from his boyhood home in Wurzburg, Germany to go through strenuous, unconventional morning workouts with longtime mentor Holger Geschwindner, then does a couple hours of cardio each afternoon.

Nowitzki's late-night shooting sessions during the season, often with Holger in attendance, are approaching legendary status. Teammates are surprised if they show up to the gym to work on their game during a non-game night and don't see Nowitzki.

Guys such as Stojakovic, who competed against Nowitzki for years, went from respecting Nowitzki's commitment to being in awe of it once they see his passion up close and personal on a consistent basis.

"His drive is just unique," said Brian Cardinal, who became one of Nowitzki's close buddies during their first season as teammates. "His motivation is like no other. To come in here and see him grind and put in the effort he does, it's inspiring. It's contagious."

Nobody expects that to change after a championship, no matter what Nowitzki says while soaking up the moment he's worked half of his life to achieve.

"Maybe a couple of nights next year I'm going to tell Holger to go somewhere else and leave me alone," Nowitzki said, quickly seeming to realize how unlikely that is to happen. "No, I don't know, we'll have to wait and see.

"I play this sport because I'm a competitor. That's what drove me to be the best I could be. I don't think it's going to be a huge motivation drop-off. I think I'll be OK once I get a little rest here."

He'll have to set new goals. The challenge of defending a championship should certainly fuel the 7-footer's competitive fire.

Maybe he'll start giving his legacy a little thought, something he claims he's never done before. Nowitzki, who ranks 23rd in NBA history with 22,792 points, acknowledged Tuesday that 30,000 would be a worthy target.

He'll find plenty of motivational fodder. Nowitzki knows nothing else.

Workers work. Winners win. For Nowitzki, the former leads to the latter, a trend that won't end just because he finally had one fully satisfying season.

DIRK AND HOLGER

Article Written: Aug. 27, 2006

Dirk: Born June 19, 1978

SAITAMA (FIBA World Championship) - One of the most important figures at the FIBA World Championship is not on the court.

Instead, Holger Geschwindner sits in the stands and watches his famous pupil Dirk Nowitzki wreak havoc on opponents as Germany takes aim at another medal in this prestigious tournament.

Nowitzki had 23 points to fire the Germans to a narrow victory over Nigeria on Sunday and into the quarter finals in Saitama.

He spoke to Cindy Garcia-Bennett about Nowitzki and Germany.

FIBA: How difficult is it for Nowitzki to deal with all the expectation surrounding him and Germany?

Geschwindner: "He feels pressure. He is the key figure in Germany right now, since he is playing in the NBA and everyone is watching him. It's a big load but he is handling it really well so far."

FIBA: Do you think Nowitzki is at the high point of his career?

Geschwindner: "I guess everyone can see that he is playing his role, I hope that he can improve his tools. He needs more physical exercise. But I think in two years time he will be on top of his game. He improves year after year and we have a pretty good plan to keep him focused. He is 28 yrs old right now and has two more years to reach the peak of his abilities."

FIBA: You have known Nowitzki for a long time. How has he changed?

Geschwindner: "I first met Dirk when he was a schoolboy, he was 16 years old.  "He really hasn't changed much in terms of character. He is very down to earth, he has only one car and a little house. He is not playing to be a big shot. He knows he has great talent but other guys have talents in other fields. He doesn't feel superior, for Dirk everybody is the same, equal."