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Culture Shock in the Big Apple By Michelle Paradise October 30, 2000 New York City has been the epicenter of the autumn sports earthquake for the last couple of weeks, and, needless to say, has drunk up every moment of it. Not only did the sheer joy of having their cross-town rivals—Mets and Yankees—pitted against each other in the highest level of baseball send gleeful yet combative shockwaves throughout the streets and parks, and up through the skyscrapers, but also the combined feeling of eliteness brought out the scent of community in the autumn air. Among every brother against brother rivalry was also a deeper and stronger bond of camaraderie that came from a combined sense of dominance. Not only did they have the best team in baseball, they had the two best teams in baseball. The 4 train. The 7 train. That classic NY symbol, slightly modified for each different team, but essentially the same. Diversity united. Individuals felt it as it washed over the city like a wave—the universal in the particular. The series didn’t disappoint—five great games, each with their own bit of drama, each with their own special plot, each decided by 2 runs or less, with the great Yankees being the fitting winner. Jeter. Piazza. Clemens. Leiter. Rivera. Justice. Some of the all-time greats—modern day legends. Does it get any better than this? This is what this city has been eating, drinking, sleeping, and breathing for the entire Major League Baseball playoffs, both in the dream leading up to the series and the reality during the series, and now it’s essentially over. Does it get any better than this? Not really. Does it get worse than this? Oh heck yeah. While New Yorkers still walk on the crisp October air with their hot bagel to the nearest subway station, excitedly stopping at one of the newsstands to purchase their hot-off-the-press copies of the Daily News, Post, and Times to catch every latest post-championship story, with titles such as “Sojo’s Greatest Moment,” “Torre a Manager for the Ages,” “Jeter an MVP in More Ways than One,” they may or may not have noticed the little boxes at the bottom, in the back—the little stories about the Knicks. The Knicks! Oh yeah! That other New York team! Basketball season starts soon doesn’t it? Yep, the day after that Yankees parade on Broadway. The day after one of the greatest sporting moments in the history of the city, after New Yorkers will have every right to command the superiority they always want to claim anyway, a new harsh reality will hit. Those who have noticed the headlines over the pre-season will be prepared. Most, I am sure, have purposely ignored them. If you are one of the latter, let me bring you up to date. “VG Stresses the Negative” “Hot Van Rips into Sluggish Knicks” “Camby’s Aching Back has Knicks Concerned” “Camby Misses Practice With Sore Back” “Coach Says Effort Coming Up Short” “Spree Not Getting the Point” “Injuries Hurting Van’s Plan” All this in the last week—during pre-season. Had enough yet? While I am writing this, the papers haven’t even come out with headlines following the Knicks’ lethargic performance versus San Antonio in which they lost 90-79. Marcus Camby did not play. Why not? Some bruise I suppose. Allan Houston scored a modest 14 points with a whopping 2 rebounds. Just pre-season, I know, but unfortunately 2 rebounds is a stat line seen all too often next to Houston’s name even in games of importance. Spree dropped 24 and 8, but how many times have we seen him come to the next game and drop 5 and 3 on 2-15 shooting? What happens when Larry Johnson’s back gets stiff again? What happens when Chris Childs, Kurt Thomas and Camby have corresponding nights in which they can’t breathe without drawing a whistle? What happens when Felton Spencer is the Knicks’ only hope of containing a Tim Duncan or a Chris Webber? How the heck did the Knicks get so screwed up? Let’s start with the front office. The Knicks may have comparable depth in their change-purse to that of Steinbrenner’s Yankees, but the restrictions in their respective league prevent them from flaunting it. By the look of the Knicks’ salary situation, however, it doesn’t seem that their suits understand this. Johnson is locked up until ’06 at about $12 million per year. Childs and Ward receive nearly a combined $9 million per, and there isn’t even a casual fan that doesn’t realize that this combination isn’t exactly the most deadly in basketball. Aging swingman Glen Rice just received a $36 million 4 year deal from a team who is already woefully over the salary cap without a legitimate championship-caliber big man. And I’m not talking this year. I’m talking for years to come. There is no light at the end of this tunnel, folks. They can improve through the draft, you say? First of all, the Knicks will make the playoffs this year, and probably for as many years as they’re in cap trouble as well. It may be as a 7th or 8th seed at times, but they’ll scratch and claw their way in. They’ll always be just good enough for a mid-20 range pick, which they will waste accordingly. Who was the last great draft choice by the Knicks? I’ll give you a hint, the year was 1985 and the player was a 7-footer out of Georgetown. That was a pick any idiot just in town drinking wine outside the Port Authority could have made. Sure they had players like Mark Jackson, but blew that choice in a dumb trade. Who did New York get for Jackson? I don’t remember either. Now they’ve even blown Ewing in a dumb trade. Don’t get me wrong; I was never against the idea of trading Patrick, but for Rice and Luc Longley? That’ll help the club in the long run. Not. Clearly, the Knicks have the benefit of deep pockets and great fans—players they pick often get an injection of heart somehow—but their decision-makers lack they savvy of the Yankees to spend their money correctly. All too often they fill an obvious hole with a sub-par player instead of taking a chance and having a vision. One last example I will give: The draft-day Harvey/Wallace for Strickland/Mickeal trade. Donnell Harvey, a green but extremely talented young rebounder out of Florida and a 6’9 offensive talent in John Wallace were sent down the river in exchange for 6’3 tough guy Erick Strickland and a rookie who may not even make the team—this for a team which needs height and rebounding. God forbid Jeff Van Gundy be required to work with a player who needs major development but will pay huge dividends in the future. Ahhh, Jeff Van Gundy. That brings me to my second and last point regarding what’s wrong with the Knicks. Sure, they guy is the embodiment of a blue-collar Cinderella type—the young gym-rat who got his big break by working extremely hard and incidentally hanging around a guy named Riley. People love stories like his, but the fact is that the man lacks tact, guts, and, seemingly, the ability to motivate. When the Knicks win, it’s always because the players decide they want it bad enough. No matter who is injured or who is healthy, one thing is certain about the Knicks: they will always lose to the bad teams and beat the good teams. The players have great pride. The players are also human. Where is that fire, that vision that must be created by their leader? The desire for championship invincibility? Any team can go through slumps—even the Yankees lost 15 of their last 18 in the regular season—but the slump should be the result of physical inability, not mental indifference. Also, a great manager like Joe Torre will know how to use the pieces, even the scraps, to piece together a winning puzzle. Look who hit the winning single in game 1: Jose Vizaino. Look who hit the winning double in Game 5: Luis Sojo. How many times did we see the Knicks in a nightmarish offensive drought last year while now-Piston John Wallace, whose one talent is scoring, rotted on the bench? How many times was Childs fouling everyone in sight and stagnating the offense by making dumb plays while Rick Brunson rode the pine, waiting for his chance? For that matter, there is no universal law that Charlie Ward must play no more than 28 minutes in a game. Chris Dudley is obviously not a great player, but the few things he is good at are rebounding, interior defense, and making quick outlet passes—ideal skills for the pivot to have in a faster, guard-oriented offense. Wouldn’t this have been better than poor old injured Ewing struggling some nights when he just didn’t have it? But Van Gundy too often refuses to break his rotation. Just this week Van Gundy came out and proclaimed to the media, loud and clear for everyone in every borough, city, state, and nation to hear, that his team was a “bull-s*** team.” Boy, that wins you friends among your players. Van Gundy would probably tell me that he doesn’t want to be their friends, he wants to win. That may sound nice, but I know I’ve tried harder to please people I like. The Yankees like Joe Torre. Derek Jeter recently said that if Torre retired, Jeter would retire. Would Sprewell retire if Van Gundy retired? You can bet Sprewell wouldn’t even speak rhetorically about it. How many times have you seen Torre tell the rabid New York media that the Yankees were a “bull-s*** team”? How many times have you see Torre publicly attack one of his players? Last week Van Gundy spoke about his lack of respect for Thomas following comments Thomas made during the Miami/New York playoff series last May. Last May. Not only should Van Gundy not disrespect Thomas publicly at all, he certainly should not disrespect him five months after the fact. This is not even to mention the hypocrisy he portrayed in doing so. Isn’t it absolutely inane to reprimand someone for complaining to the media by complaining to the media? I don’t think I’m the only one who sees this as being obvious. Common sense tells one how to win people’s respect and motivate them into performing above their ability. Doesn’t it? Despite the Knicks’ many faults, though, they are still the Knicks. They still play in the Hallowed Rotunda, the great Madison Square Garden, and they still wear the orange and blue. They still have greater talent-eclipsing heart and guts than anyone in the NBA. Such assets come with the uniform, I suppose. Nonetheless, I’m afraid the upcoming NBA season will be a major emotional drop-off for the city of New York. Where there was hope in years past for one more shot at the Promised Land, hope has become much more scarce in the cracks and potholes, in the eyes of the faithful, the venders, and the bums outside Pennsylvania Station this year. It may be unfair to compare the Knicks to the Yankees, but so much of the Yankees success has come from smart decisions and smart managing—areas in which lie the Knicks’ most glaring holes. New York is a wonderful city, arguably the greatest city in the world, and its residents know it. Being number one and number two, at the pinnacle of superiority, is something the city savors. Despite this, there will still be unbelievable traffic jams from Canal Street up through midtown, there will still be people trying to turn left on Broadway from the right lane of 72nd, and there will still be winos hanging around 8th Avenue. These characteristics, too, are embodied in sports—in the Knicks. They have faults, they fight, and they overcome, but never completely. That’s what makes the Knicks so beloved. They are cursed with gaping imperfections and much of the luck that has characterized the Yankees’ many successes has characterized the Knicks’ many disappointments. Need I remind you of the missed finger-roll? The bench brawl? The 2-18? Charles Smith? Regardless of the frustration, these are things with which we can all identify. The Yankees fulfill our desire for perfection. The Knicks fulfill in us the old adage, “misery loves company.” Nobody wants everything to be too perfect too often. But at this point, it will take some getting used to. ____________
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