Mike Celizic

It’s no secret that Rasheed Wallace can be God’s own knucklehead. But usually, his sins involve jawing at the refs or getting involved in altercations, in either event collecting technical fouls and making life difficult for himself and his team.

But Sunday in a Game 5 that was there for the Pistons to take, ’Sheed, as he’s known in the Palace at Auburn Hills, made one of the dumbest moves you’ll ever see by a quality player in a big game. With just a few seconds left in overtime and the Pistons up two points, he left Robert Horry all alone at the 3-point line.

Horry, as he has so many times before, got the pass back from Manu Ginobili, drilled the 3, and was the hero again. He’s done it before, and Wallace knew it. Still, he left Horry alone to be a hero again.

The television crew lionized the guy. He’s done this before, after all, collecting five rings during a peripatetic NBA career that began in Houston and went through Los Angeles before arriving at San Antonio. There’s no question about it, everyone agreed, “Big Shot Bob,” is an all-timer.

An all-time what is the question. Despite the playoff moments everyone remembers, to which you can add Sunday night, when he produced 21 points in the fourth quarter and overtime when everyone else on the Spurs disappeared, Horry has been anything but a great player.

FREE VIDEO Big Shot Bob June 20: Spurs coach Greg Popovich, Tim Duncan and Game 5 hero Robert Horry discuss Horry's huge shot and game.

Felix Gillette, a writer from Texas, went so far last week in an entertaining column in Slate as to call Horry a fraud. If he’s had some successes, Gillette argues, he’s had more failures, including the 2003 and 2004 playoffs when, playing for first the Lakers and then the Spurs, he couldn’t hit the ocean from the end of a pier.

In 1995-96 during his fourth and final year in Houston, Horry averaged a career-high 12 points a game, the third time in his four years he averaged double figures. Since then, he’s never averaged more than 9.2 points. This year and last in San Antonio, his per-game averages were 6 points and 4.8 points, respectively.

That’s not a great player. It’s not even a good player. They are the numbers for the seventh or eighth guy off the bench. He’s known for hitting 3s, but his lifetime shooting percentage from behind the arc is .343; during the playoffs, he’s a bit better — .358 — but not by much.

Tim Duncan, whose free-throw shooting in Game 5 wasn’t even as good as Shaq’s on a bad night, darned near lost the game for the Spurs despite 26 points and 19 boards. He had the put-back to win it in regulation in his hands and was so delicate with it he barely hit the rim from less than a foot away. And he missed all those free throws.

Afterwards, he could laugh about Horry.

“He does it all season long,” Duncan told an ESPN camera. “He doesn’t feel like playing. He doesn’t want to show up. Until you get to a big game — being Robert Horry must be nice.”

It sure is. He puts in minimal effort all year and gets maximum fame for it.

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Looking at what he does — or doesn’t do — during the year, it’s tempting to agree with Gillette.

What Gillette misses is what makes Horry what he is, which is his willingness to take the big shot. Gillette doesn’t think that’s a particularly impressive talent, given that he misses a lot more than he makes and is utterly unapologetic about taking years and games off, waiting for the big moment.

But you don’t have to watch this or any game very long to know that there aren’t many people who have the cojones to take those big shots. How many times has Sacramento lost to the Lakers because no one on the Kings would take a shot when it counted? How many quarterbacks crumble when the game’s on the line? How many batters can you name who you really want at the plate with the game on the line?