DETROIT -- Before tipoff, someone from the Milwaukee Bucks always sets out a little clear Tupperware container chock full of gum, candy and assorted goodies on the tabletop next to the team’s bench. The box has become such a part of the Bucks' ritual that Ray Allen nearly held up Wednesday night’s tip with the Pistons in order to dig around for the last piece of Wrigley’s spearmint gum.

As the game wore on and the Bucks wore down, though, Milwaukee coach George Karl kept poking through that candy dish. He tried some gum. An orange Lifesaver. A peppermint. Then back to the bubblegum. Nothing, I imagine, could possibly cover up the horrible taste in his mouth. There’s no way to sugarcoat it.

Last night the Bucks completed one of the all-time greatest collapses in professional sports. And appropriately I guess, they capped it off with perhaps the most gutless performance I have ever witnessed. (Certainly some of this had to do with the revved up, ragtag Pistons who were going for win No. 50. Ya know I hear folks say the East is wide open, that no one’s afraid to play a team like the Nets or the ‘Stons. Well, after watching a banged-up Jerry Stackhouse dive for loose balls like he’s on a 10-day contract and then witnessing Ben Wallace clean the glass like he’s using a mini-tramp, let me say something: Be afraid. Be very afraid.) "We just kinda self-destructed," said Karl.

Uh, no George. Enron just kinda self-destructed. What you did was so mind-blowingly horrendous in so many different ways, the only thing I can even compare it to is The Best Damn Sports Show Period. About a month ago Milwaukee (or does this team leave such a bad aftertaste we should call them Old Milwaukee?) was in first place in the Central Division. Then the feuding started. The effort waned. And the losses followed. Lots of ‘em. Suddenly, the team that was one game away from the NBA Finals a year ago couldn’t muster a single road win in the last month of the season.

That’s just pathetic, folks.

Wednesday night at the Palace, in a game they needed to win to make the playoffs -- a victory Milwaukee guard Sam Cassell actually ‘guaranteed’ -- the Bucks played more like Bambi. They got drilled 123-89 as Karl fumed in silence away from the bench where he had planted most of his starters during the second half. "They fought like they were playing for the last spot instead of us," said Bucks forward Anthony Mason.

Karl even called a timeout with 15.7 seconds to play just to let his gazillionaire talent -- guys like Allen, Cassell and Glenn Robinson -- sit and stew in it for a few more minutes while undrafted Pistons like Wallace and Michael Curry and Chucky Atkins danced and celebrated and flashed five fingers and a fist to symbolize their 50 wins. That moment perfectly encapsulated all that is great and all that is gruesome in the NBA.

It was about this time when the Detroit fans (my hometown people, god love ‘em) seated behind the Bucks bench started peppering the team with insults. Now I’m really not one to champion heckling but in this case I must say, well … bravo. My favorite? Some beered-up dude started calling Robinson Lil Bow Wow instead of Big Dog.

The torture ceased only once when the crowd’s attention was focused on Wallace and Mason, who had chested up after a scrum for a rebound. No wonder folks here have started wearing huge mushroom cloud 'fro wigs to Pistons games to honor Big Ben. Wallace walked away, dismissing Mason with a wave of his hand, yelling at him over and over, "Just play basketball … just play ball … let’s just play some basketball." It was a simple request, really.

But one the Bucks have been wholly incapable of fulfilling for more than a month now.

David Fleming is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at flemfile@aol.com.