Hawks had no incentive to keep Ferry

— -- Danny Ferry had been out of sight for the Atlanta Hawks since September, but rarely out of mind.

Ever since last fall, when Ferry took a leave of absence after audio surfaced of him making insulting comments about  Luol Deng, the city of Atlanta has been embroiled in a parlor game: "Is Danny coming back?" On Philips Arena's suite level and among the city's political chattering class, speculation ran rampant. When Atlanta civil rights luminary Andy Young came out on Ferry's behalf just after the All-Star break, Ferry bulls saw it as a pretext to Ferry's return.

But as the Hawks wrapped up the top seed in the East six weeks later, Ferry bears became increasingly assured that the franchise had put the events of September behind it, and was singularly focused on carrying the momentum of the team's wildly successful regular season into the postseason. Why screw with the good vibes and revisit that nightmare?

When Tony Ressler's group, which includes Grant Hill, won the bidding for the Hawks in late April, there was brief speculation that one Dukie would aid another, with Ferry returning under Hill's cover. But there was never anything to the Duke association. Hill has far greater priorities as a partner in the Hawks, and basketball operations is only a peripheral interest.

Besides, Ressler is poised for one of the NBA's greatest honeymoons. He gets to be the savior who rescues the franchise from decades of incompetent ownership. The thought goes: Finally a controlling owner with the authority, class, acumen and wealth to succeed in what should be fertile NBA ground. Atlanta is the nation's ninth-largest market -- young, wealthy, diverse, expanding, warm-weathered and a natural home for a young pro athlete. So however capable Ferry may or may not be as a basketball executive, why would Ressler want to expend capital and goodwill on making the case for Ferry's return?

And Ressler is just one case study in why Ferry will not be back as the Hawks' general manager: There was simply nobody, other than Ferry, who had the incentive to fight for his return.

It's easy to forget that Ferry wasn't suspended. He took a leave of absence and needed the official approval of only one man to return: controlling owner Bruce Levenson, himself in exile. Levenson and his Washington-based partners own a majority share of the Hawks and at any time, Levenson was within his rights to reinstate Ferry.

Sources say that Levenson is devastated at what he sees as a terrible miscarriage of justice that's left Ferry isolated and tarred as a racist. But Levenson didn't feel badly enough to, as his final substantive act as Hawks owner, insist Ferry retake charge of a team he helped build, one that was chewing up the Eastern Conference. With the franchise on the block, there was too much at stake at market to risk mucking up the sale. Levenson had been cutting checks to cover losses for a decade, and this was finally his chance to recoup. Even if Ferry was reinstalled, Ressler could decide to cut him loose.

Likewise, the Hawks' executive offices at Centennial Tower had no reason to want Ferry back. The team endured weeks of chaos diffusing the Ferry and Levenson situations, placating the league, civic constituencies and politicians. It was a sequence out of "A Man in Full," but the story took a happy turn when the team caught fire. Who wants to deal with all that again?

Though head coach Mike Budenholzer and assistant general manager Wes Wilcox -- who have been promoted to team president and general manager, respectively, according to sources -- in large part owe their opportunities in Atlanta to Ferry, they had little motivation to fight for him.

The vacuum left by Ferry gave Budenholzer admission into the most exclusive club in the NBA -- men who control basketball operations both on and off the court for their respective teams. That dual role will translate into millions more in compensation over Budenholzer's tenure in Atlanta. And he doesn't have to answer to anyone except his new deep-pocketed owner. Budenholzer also has a severe allergy to media events, and each day he and his players aren't disrupted by external events is a winning day in BudWorld.

Young, intense and obsessive, Wilcox has been accumulating the experience to become an NBA GM, and now gets to do so for a team he helped construct in an organization he knows. When Ressler and other potential owners flew down to Atlanta for a tour of the facility and to meet with team principals, Wilcox gave an hour-long presentation in the new conference room in Philips Arena on the basketball side's strategic plans -- everything from the cap situation, to its talent evaluation process to the Hawks' cultural philosophy. To Ressler and other owners, it was impressive stuff from a guy who seemed more than ready to assume the general manager title. Given all that, can you imagine Wilcox telling his new owner over dinner that the Hawks can't accomplish everything they want unless Ferry is brought back over him?

Outside the organization, there were few advocating for Ferry beyond a select group of colleagues who grew up in the Spurs family. The league wanted a clean sale and to minimize the fallout of another controversy involving race, a peace not conducive to Ferry's return. While there's a belief among many in the fraternity of NBA execs and coaches that Ferry likely isn't a racist, there's very little indignation on Ferry's behalf. As one general manager said last March, an aphorism that was repeated almost verbatim by another GM two weeks later, "Danny isn't in exile because he's a racist. Danny's in exile because he's an a--h---." This sentiment conforms to the general perception, even by many in the game who think highly of his abilities, that Ferry has far too much self-regard relative to personal accomplishment.

In that spirit, Ferry fell victim to the Eliot Spitzer effect: Even though his transgression was forgivable by many, he simply didn't have enough friends to survive.