Association Notes

Is the guy on the left available? I'd give limbs for him.

This will likely surprise those of you who've come to recognize that I usually know everything, but I am not quite sure how I feel about the Knicks hiring Mike D'Antoni, and my first instinct was that this is a mistake.

A mistake for the obvious reasons:

1) D'Antoni coaches a style of ball that emphasizes rapid pace, good decisions, precision shooting, and smart passing, none of which these Knicks can reliably execute.

2) D'Antoni is not a coach who's proven that he can teach defense, something that these woefully inadequate Knicks need in abundance.

3) D'Antoni couldn't get over the hump with Phoenix's roster, so why are we to expect that he ever will while coaching teams that will likely never be as talented?

4) $6 million a year is a lot for anyone, D'Antoni or otherwise, forced to win with a roster that lacks talent, leadership, and the fiscal flexibility needed for sudden change.

This fourth point of hesitation underscores the sad reality of the circumstance, though: there is no coaching panacea walking through that door. The sorry Knicks are who they are. It is true that New York will benefit from a coach who has a set rotation, who can command the respect of players, and whose grasp of strategy goes beyond "questionable at best and oftentimes baffling." The presence of a true professional, alone, may help to elevate this team toward true mediocrity. But the Knicks as we know them have a relatively low ceiling.

And for this reason, oddly enough, I have come around from my initial skepticism and think that D'Antoni was the best possible hire. Now, that's kind of like saying that one consolation prize is better than the others, but it's a start.

The Knickerbocker organization, like Michigan basketball when Tommy Amaker was finally fired, is a franchise with a broken culture. Ever since Jeff Van Gundy's unceremonious departure, the Brickers have been a group whose collective identity is mired in the negatives and has given rise to a culture without accountability or professionalism. For most of this decade, the Knicks have been a sad joke around the Lig--the overpaid, under-talented team with the uncouth, incompetent owner and the endless circus over which he has presided. The last coach was--well, we all know what he was: a con man. He couldn't coach. He couldn't lead. Isiah Thomas got by on his smile, his history, and his sinister charm. It led to embarrassing basketball, outrageous distractions, and chaos. Before him, the Knicks were led by a depressed narcissist who degraded his players and excused himself from any culpability. Before him, it was the lame duck. See the pattern?

If nothing more, Mike D'Antoni offers the promise of good-humored restoration. He will restore order, accountability, and professionalism. In :07 Seconds or Less, D'Antoni comes across as an amiable, witty guy who respects and loves basketball. He governs a team for which playing basketball is a job and a focus, not merely a means for a paycheck. That is a foreign approach for these Knicks. Routines will be enforced. Responsibilities will be made clear. Repercussions will be meaningful and consistent. The minutiae of the game, the angles that lead to layups and not jump shots--that will become the dialect of the organization. Changing the culture of the team through these sorts of seemingly mundane processes will mean improvement. And as sorry as that is, it's necessary, and D'Antoni seems like a good fit to help bring about the revolution.

What will D'Antoni do with his roster? I have no clue. Assuming that Donnie Walsh engineers no miracles and that D'Antoni wants to play :07 Second basketball, I'd imagine that he will try to get Stephon Marbury on board, because the team needs a conductor and distributor. After that, were I D'Antoni, I'd try to make Jamal Crawford my destitute man's Joe Johnson, asking him to spot up along the sidelines and slash for the midrange J's and the layups when available. Nate Robinson (gulp) would be my Barbosa, an off-the-bench combo guard who'd push the ball and help break down a set defense (I know that this is a reach). I have no clue who will attempt to replicate what the Amares and Shawn Marions and Diaws of the world have done. The Knicks don't have remotely analogous players, though David Lee can surely apply his hustle game to enhanced effect in a system where running is placed at a premium. And given D'Antoni's European stylistic lineage, maybe he will find a way to better utilize the shooting range of Zach Randolph.

But the other possibility is that D'Antoni has been brought to New York because he's a respected pro and because he is a proud basketball radical. Maybe his understanding with Walsh is that aside from insisting upon order and professionalism, there are few rules and he's given license to play cooky conjurer, doing whatever constructive things he wants in the name of improvement. I don't know if this will work, and I'd rather not be relying on someone who gets his lunch taken by Pop every spring, but it'll do for now.

And that brings me back to my first point--now. Now, the Knicks are dysfunctional. They barely resemble respectable pros. The future can't come soon enough because the future will mean salary-cap flexibility and freedom from the dead-weight yokes that the franchise carries around. But that's a few years off, and it will mean nothing if it's squandered amidst a gang of losers who don't know what success looks like. Luckily, D'Antoni can help to show them. He can help to make the Knicks proud, if not successful. And pride must come before the rise, because the team probably can't fall any further.

Welcome, Mike. We need you. For now.

P.S.
The next NBA commercial should be "Where Awesome Happens," and it should simply be this clip:


(HT: Skeets Skeets Skeets)

Can we all take a moment to fully appreciate what happened? First, this was inarguably the second-best moment of the entire, horribly boring series (the first being LeBron's subsequent jam on KG in crunch time. Sorry, Kevin.) Second--WHAT?! The most freakish athlete on the planet is tackled by an NBA all-star, both of whom go careening into the crowd as the the protagonist's mother gets in the face of the antagonist, only to be calmed down by an NBA hall of famer before also being scolded by her own son as he makes his way to the free-throw line. Again--WHAT?! This was surreal and awesome and hilarious all at once. And it only could happen in basketball. Such a great moment.