Commentary: With Darius, the list of issues carries on for miles

By Casey Michel     1/15/09 6:00pm

My issues with Darius Miles began at a Chipotle.Unlike most, I hate the place. I hate the overpriced food, hate those silver-plated tables, and hate the info-laden cups that tell me why a farmer in Iowa thinks pigs are sexier than Marisa Miller.

Darius Miles, on the other hand, loves Chipotle. I saw him at one in 2007, stepping from his gleaming black convertible and over his 30-inch rims. He had the look of a lethargic has-been, a tale for all those whose dreams came true but are either too dense or too arrogant to realize it. He made me retch almost as much as the burrito I'd just eaten.

I thought our relationship had hit rock bottom. After a racially-tinged tirade against then-Portland Trail Blazers coach Maurice Cheeks, Miles' appearance at Chipotle cemented his repugnant, disreputable status in my mind.

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But it looked like Chipotle was just the beginning of our problems.

As you may have heard, the biggest NBA story of 2009 isn't the Celtics' freefall or Charles Barkley's late night escapades. All eyes have instead turned to the recent controversy between a certain corn-rowed, scraggly-bearded forward and the league's dapper darlings, my Trail Blazers.

Here's the synopsis: In 2004, Miles penned a six-year, $48 million contract with Portland, but his lanky frame soon gave way to an onslaught of injuries. He sat out the 2006-'07 and '07-'08 seasons because of microfracture surgery, gaining weight and becoming more of a detriment to the team. Portland was eager to leave its "Jail Blazer" image in the past and Miles' injury, coupled with his image as a malcontent, made his return to the Blazers as likely as Mike Sherman's return to Texas A&M. Portland sealed Miles' fate when a doctor deemed his injury "career-ending," forcing an insurance company to fork over the millions owed by the Blazers.

However, breaking the insurance company's bank was contingent on one thing: Miles' career actually being over. According to league rules, if Miles appears in at least 10 games during the 2008-'09 season, his contract re-ups and $18 million goes back on the Blazers cap space - leaving them a $7.9 million tab in luxury tax this season and putting enough lines on owner Paul Allen's face to make a cartographer happy.

So far, Miles has remained under the double-digit limit, but just barely. The hand-wringing came to a head last week when it was revealed that the six 2008 preseason games Miles played with the Boston Celtics count toward his 10-game threshold. Like a Lions fan with the Ford family, the brass and fanbase of Portland became more heated than a turkey on Thanksgiving, and Blazers president Larry Miller swiftly took matters into his own hands.

In a letter to his fellow executives - one of whom underhandedly slipped the text to the media - Miller said Portland would threaten litigation if a team signed Miles solely to mess with the Blazers' salary cap. The backlash has been swift, as both the league office and the players' union immediately stated their support of Miles' fair and unencumbered return. Miles, meanwhile, has been conspicuously silent.

Enviable, desirable, and amicable? Nope. Complicated, awkward, and unprecedented? You betcha.

Miller and his coworkers may have Plaxico'd themselves - shot themselves in the leg, that is - with their heavy-handed letter. Every team knew of the Blazers' predicament but without the threat, inter-team relations were at least palatable. Now Portland faces 29 other teams full of affront and bluster, all with crimped feelings and possible rationale for returning the favor. The Grizzlies stepped up to the plate first, signing Miles to a 10-day contract through Jan. 19 last week. After that contract runs dry, at least a dozen teams are reportedly interested in helping Miles' career resurge.

And the worst part is that the Blazers' threat may be emptier than Rod Blagojevich's moral code. Lawyers from across the profession have come forward to claim that the Blazers' actions represent everything from outright worthlessness to collusion, as it is next to impossible to prove that a team signed Miles for anything other than his hardcourt abilities.

As it stands now, Miles has more influence over the Blazers than he ever had while in uniform. He controls a huge portion of the team's future, and with it, the possible arrival of an NBA dynasty. If Greg Oden, Brandon Roy, and LaMarcus Aldridge are eternally missing the final piece to Portland's puzzle, David Stern will join Kevin Pritchard in a decades-long tear-fest, always wondering what could have been from a team that always should have been.

Yes, my issues with Darius Miles continue. He's not doing this to feed his family, a la Latrell Sprewell. He's not proving that he can once again be the greatest, like Michael Jordan. He's simply trying to backstab a team that once gave him a generous contract when no one else would, setting him up for life on the track to riches and Blazers fans on the track to regret.

If Miles plays the 10th game, there's only one place you'll find me: Chipotle. Why? Because by that point, nothing will compare to the bitter taste left by the Blazers' situation, not even one of those terrible burritos.

Casey Michel is a Brown College junior and former sports editor.

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