The last time I rooted for the team was when Dave Bing was in uniform. But Thursday night, I was as much a Piston fan as any Detroiter wearing a Ben Wallace wig and booing “O Canada.” I marveled at the grace and poise of Zelijko Rebraca, gloried in the bloodlines of the Barry family, sang the praises of Rick Carlisle’s substitution pattern, debated changing one of my children’s names to Corliss, cursed Dell Curry for not retiring years ago and … well, prayed would be too strong a word. Let’s just say I kept changing the pillow configuration on the couch in an effort to get Stack untracked.

What would cause me to suddenly bleed Piston red, white and blue? A little decision we at The Magazine made a week ago.

This time of year is tricky for sports magazines, what with the NBA and NHL playoffs in constant flux. We found that out a few weeks ago when we put the surest of sure things, the Detroit Red Wings, on the cover, only to watch them drop the first two games of their first-round series with the Vancouver Canucks. The "Code Red" cover billing took on a new meaning. Fortunately, they decided that in order to justify our claim that they were “the best team ever”, they would do well to actually get into the second round.

Because of the nature of the postseason beast, we had parallel stories and covers in the works for the latest issue: namely Jerry Stackhouse of the Pistons and Peja Stojakovic of the Sacramento Kings. Indeed, we liked both stories and both cover photos very much. It was just a matter of going with the package we felt was the safest. So when the Pistons went up 2-0 against the VC-less Raptors and the Kings split their first two games with the Jazz, we decided to let Jerry push the ball up the floor for us. We even came up with a cover billing that we thought crystallized his season: Turnaround J.

Turnaround indeed.

Maybe it was that Detroit-Canada thing again. For whatever reason, the Raptors went out and won Game 3 on Saturday night, 94-84. As we closed The Magazine on Sunday, we still felt safe. Stack just had an off night. Only six teams in NBA history had overcome a 2-0 deficit to win a best-of-five series. The Raptors were relying on Hakeem Olajuwon, Dell Curry and Chris Childs, for Lenny's sake. Surely, the Pistons would finish them off in Game 4.

Monday night, Toronto: Raptors 89, Pistons 83. Monday night, Salt Lake City: Kings eliminate Jazz. Monday night, Stillwater, Okla.: Turnaround J issues are being bundled for shipment from our printing plant to newsstands and mailboxes all over the world.

Before we move on to Game 5, let me first tell you about the essential irony of sports journalism. Most of us become sportswriters because we are fans at heart. But to be a good sportswriter, you must cast aside your allegiances in the name of objectivity. I discovered this was easier said than done back in May of 1980 when Sports Illustrated sent me to do a story on the red-hot Dodgers, who were playing my beloved Phillies. If the Dodgers won, my story would run. If the Phillies won, my work would go for naught. Thus torn, I wrote in my notebook, “I hereby relinquish my allegiance to the Phillies.” The Dodgers won, and my story ran. But the Phillies, whom I had abandoned, went on to win the first World Series in their history. After they beat the Royals, I actually tried to venture out onto the field to soak in the joy. A German shepherd growled and bared his fangs, and I retreated.

The great baseball writer Jerome Holtzman once wrote a book called No Cheering In The Press Box. It is the first commandment of sports journalism. Yet I once found myself sitting next to Jerome in the press box of Comiskey Park, and he was, yes, cheering for the White Sox to win. “But Jerome,” I said, feigning indignation, “you wrote the book.”

“Screw that,” he said. “If the Sox win, I won’t have to change my sidebar.”

So sports journalists do cheer, though our reasons are far less noble and far more pragmatic than the fans’. We root for the juicier story, the lesser amount of work (baseball beat writers curse when their teams make the postseason because it means they’ll have to put out a special section), the outcome that will make us look better.

Which brings us back to Game 5. I writhed in agony after Stack missed each of his first eight shots. I yelled at Chris Childs for nailing those 3s. I smiled when Keon Clark was called for his fifth foul -- even though he clearly had all ball. I jumped off the couch when Stackhouse found Williamson underneath on the inbounds pass with two seconds on the shot clock and time running out. I rearranged the pillows again when Stack missed another free throw.

But my Pistons hung on to win, 85-82. Stackhouse lives. The Magazine lives.

We should have no problem with the Celtics.

Steve Wulf is executive editor of ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at steve.wulf@espnmag.com.