Sprewell has an anger problem deeper than the scratches on Carlesimo’s neck, maybe even deeper than the people who run the Knicks have sunk to sign a guy with a game, but without apparent remorse. THE probable next coach of the Rangers once served nine months for vehicular homicide. Almost 16 years ago, Craig MacTavish got behind the wheel after too many drinks and, on a Massachusetts road, killed a young woman named Kim Radley.
He paid his debt, was forgiven by her parents, resumed his career without ever giving any of his employers, including John Muckler today, a single doubt about the kind of person MacTavish is and the kind of head coach he will be.
Paul Molitor, probably the most mature athlete we have known in 25 years in the business, was one of the cocaine culprits of the baseball scandals of the early ’80s. He overcame his weakness, will be a first ballot Hall of Famer and a coveted asset in any baseball organization.
Ernie Grunfeld, Dave Checketts, Jeff Van Gundy and Ed Tapscott were told Sunday night in Milwaukee by Latrell Sprewell that he wanted to move on, Of course he does.
When millions and a career are at stake, you say what people who control your fate want to hear in whatever preliminary pop quiz the four guys who have to win to keep their jobs administer. The real exam is graded over time, when there isn’t any next time.
When truly good people make terrible mistakes, they don’t just move on. They learn, live, grow. They don’t make themselves out to be victims by suing the people punishing them for universally held reprehensible behavior.
They don’t – a few months after being vilified before an entire nation – fail to show the least bit of concern for persons they have just injured by driving recklessly. Having lost, maybe understandably, their temper with an abusive authority figure they despise, they don’t come back 15 minutes later and attack again.
Sprewell didn’t just lose it once. He once was booked for investigation for threatening a police officer after being caught speeding with a suspended license. Publicly, he shrugged off his daughter having one of her ears bitten off by Sprewell’s pit bull.
At Golden State, he had practice fights with Byron Houston and Jerome Kersey. After the latter, he returned with a two-by-four to settle the deal once and for all.
Sprewell didn’t get along with P.J. Carlesimo or Don Nelson, or, for that matter, a winner like Tim Hardaway. At 28, the new Knick has a long history of problems with authority, including the NBA’s to discipline him.
Sprewell has an anger problem deeper than the scratches on Carlesimo’s neck, maybe even deeper than the people who run the Knicks have sunk to sign a guy with a game, but without apparent remorse.
“Obviously, we did our due diligence,” Grunfeld said. “We did a lot of research, talked to people who know him. We visited with him, are convinced he is sorry about it, wants to move forward and re-establish himself.”
Neither Grunfeld nor Checketts refused any more details, wouldn’t let us know if being “sorry about it” means for the lost wages and reputation or really for doing something wrong. Time will tell, more than the Knicks ever do behind closed practice doors. The Van Gundy turtle neck watch is on.
If this has any chance to work, it’s because of Van Gundy, who inspires the same loyalty from players he almost unconditionally gives them. Also, because this is a bottom-line town where people are practiced at looking the other way to get where they want to go, which in the case of Knicks fans, is to a championship at last.
Like Carlesimo told Sprewell 13 months ago, Checketts and Grunfeld and Van Gundy have put some mustard on it. Patrick Ewing is 36 years old.
The rule of thumb, pressed to the coach’s temple or otherwise, is that winning takes care of everything, that Ewing, just trying to survive with his millions, and Latrell Sprewell, just wanting to move on, will be as popular as the current winning or losing streak. The basic likability of the players for whom you are supposed to root is no issue.
“When we were in the finals in 1994, we weren’t a liked team at all,” Checketts said. “From fellow owners, all I heard was that low television ratings were a result of the ugly style the Knicks played. But New York loved us because we won.
“It’s a balancing act. I don’t want a team that no one likes. And I don’t want a team that never wins because nobody will like that team.
“Given the order of priority, we want to win as much as we can, as often as we can,” Checketts said. “Along that path, we want to have an organization who are great people, people who kids can emulate and see as role models.
“This is what I aspire to, not winning at all costs.”
If taking in Latrell Sprewell doesn’t represent winning at all costs, then we can’t imagine signing a bigger bill.
No matter how many games they win, the Knicks pay large costs in maintenance and in image. To keep the building sold out, the Knicks have sold their soul.
