Getting stuck with the tab for losing

Somebody always pays.

The latest somebody turned out to be Paul Silas, who was fired Sunday, less than 48 hours after the New Orleans Hornets failed to reach the second round of the NBA playoffs.

He wasn't the first or last man in the league to get stuck with the tab for a collective flop -- remember, there's several rounds and more than a few disappointments left -- and Silas was even further from being the most famous.

Despite some of the other big names rumored to be on the chopping or auction blocks already, that distinction still belongs to Michael Jordan. He voluntarily turned in his uniform for good after Washington failed to make the playoffs in a weak Eastern Conference. Now it appears he might be asked to clean out the office the Wizards had been saving for his return.

Jordan defined winning by bringing six championships to Chicago as a player, but he's had more than his share of losing since, not to mention trouble hanging onto to a job. The greatest player the game has ever seen was just beginning to show promise as Washington's president of basketball operations when an ill-timed itch two years ago convinced him to return to the court.

Cost of credibility

Not only was the third coming a disaster measured strictly by wins and losses, it cost Jordan some of the credibility he'll need if he plans to return to the front office as an executive.

The Associated Press reported that Jordan has begun exploring a possible role with the expansion team in Charlotte and talked recently with owner Robert Johnson about buying in as a partner. And after the way this latest experiment went, the owners' box may be the only place in an NBA organization where Jordan won't get in the way.

There was no generation gap when he played with the Bulls and his impatience was almost a virtue. Jordan badgered and bullied teammates, but back then he could still lead by example -- or put the whole lot on his back and carry them as far as he needed to. There was a core of veterans and Phil Jackson as coach besides, a rough system of checks and balances.

A far different picture emerges, though, from Jordan's tenure as a player with the Wizards. His younger teammates soon came to feel his constant criticism wasn't so much designed to challenge them as to provide him with an alibi. Like the veterans, they considered his hand-picked coach, Doug Collins, almost a flunky, and never quite shook the feeling Jordan continued calling the shots even higher up the food chain.

Hardly a fond farewell

A hint of the near-mutiny that bubbled at the end was apparent in a New York Times report that when many of Jordan's teammates were asked if they wanted to contribute to a goodbye gift, they wasted little time saying no.

"Without Michael, we could be just as good of a team," Jerry Stackhouse, one of the few players willing to speak on the record, told The Washington Post. "I look forward to that challenge and I know other guys in this locker room, even though they may not say it, are looking forward to that challenge, too."

Jordan's legacy as a player is safe. The same can't be said for his reputation as a judge of talent, nor as an executive chasing free agents looking to relocate. Washington owners Abe Pollin and Ted Leonsis were already unhappy with the way Jordan ran the team's basketball operations from his home in Chicago. With his authority assailed as never before, there is speculation the two could sever ties with Jordan as early as this week.

Jordan has already started exploring the possibility of moving on, which means he'd miss a chance to cash in on the spike in value his presence brought the ballclub.

The good news is that Jordan won't miss the money. The same, though, can hardly be said about every one of the coaches, assistants or ballplayers who will take the fall for the failures in the coming weeks.

Already there's talk Isiah Thomas might not get a chance to coach a fourth season at Indiana, and that Gary Payton, who arrived in Milwaukee in just enough time to play three dozen games, won't be back next season. The stakes are raised for every series from here on out until a champion is crowned.

Portland owner Paul Allen practically guaranteed offseason changes, if only to clean up the off-court problems his team -- nicknamed the "Jail Blazers" -- encountered earlier. Though the Blazers lost Game 7 to Dallas, by fighting back from an 0-3 deficit, they might have bought themselves a little more time.

"Hopefully, we can keep this thing together," said guard Bonzi Wells.

But only for so long.

Sooner or later, somebody has to pay for the losing.

Because somebody always does.

Jim Litke is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press.