For the Miami Heat to win its first NBA Championship, it needed the man who built the franchise into a contender over a decade ago. The Heat needed a monumental effort and a rainmaker to take over during the season and lead the troops to victory.
It needed Pat Riley. It needed him to fine tune his coaching, managerial and motivational skills, and to show that the old dog had the foresight to know he needed new tricks to win in this era of the NBA.
While Dwyane Wade stamped his name on the MVP trophy and became one of the best players in Finals history, Riley was the puppeteer pulling the strings on Wade’s supporting cast. By blending in fading superstars, a rising megastar, role players and cast-offs, he not only brought them together, but managed to finally bring a victory parade down Biscayne Boulevard.
And it was perhaps one of the best coaching jobs in NBA history. This championship wasn’t like the four Riley won as head coach of the Los Angeles Lakers, which boasted one of the greatest lineups ever with Magic Johnson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and James Worthy—this was a true challenge. From bringing in Shaq, Jason Williams, Gary Payton and Antoine Walker to controversially replacing Stan Van Gundy, the pressure to succeed in South Beach grew with each passing game over the past seven months.
This championship wasn’t about redemption for Pat Riley—he doesn’t need it with his resume. It was about proving that who’s coaching still matters.
Just look at some of his work—getting Walker to play defense and not just jog three-point line to three-point line, and convincing Gary Payton to play more like a role player than “the player”, as well as come off the bench and contribute to a total team effort.
Riley got Jason Williams to play less like White Chocolate and more like a Starbucks decaf latte. He tapped Alonzo Mourning’s one kidney for more production than anyone thought possible. He managed the ego of a declining Shaquille O’Neal. And most importantly, he convinced a group of savvy veterans that Dwyane Wade should be the captain of the ship, not just a passenger.
While they were handing out awards in the post-game, they should have given Riley an honorary PhD in motivational psychology. In a sports world where so many struggle mentally with the game they play, his psychological management of this team and his motivational tactics proved that he always believes and never doubts.
There was the bowl that had been sitting in the middle of the Heat locker room throughout the playoffs, covered by a shroud of mystery. Only the players and coaches knew what was inside—and it wasn’t Stan Van Gundy’s head. Riley revealed that the bowl included over 150,000 small cut-out cards of the Larry O’Brien trophy. They signified the end goal of the team and that the Heat were composed of “15 strong”.
“People don’t know how much they wanted to win. Every day, I would bring in a bunch, dump them in, Shaq would bring them in. It was about 15 strong, the Heat, the players and their wives, after all we’d heard about team chemistry and guys not working together...it was about faith,” Riley said.
In making them believe, he convinced an eclectic group of players with varying backgrounds and ages in a cynical league of selfish athletes to come together for the ultimate goal—a championship.
The players said Riley offered all of his rings so they could win this one. Who wouldn’t want to play for that guy? How many coaches can pinpoint to their teams which day they’ll win the title?
“The great Pat Riley told me we were going to win today. He told us on 6/8 that we would win it on 6/20…Pat Riley is the best coach I ever had,” Shaquille O’Neal said amidst the celebration.
He earned the respect of his players and got them to buy into his system—perhaps the most difficult thing for a coach to do in professional sports. It showed on the court as they played defense, jumped on loose balls and consistently out rebounded Dallas—something that hadn’t been done against the Mavericks in the entire playoffs. And it showed after the final buzzer, when each Heat player individually hugged Riley to show their appreciation.
It took Riley’s kind of toughness to become only the third team in NBA history to win the Finals after being down 0-2. When the series shifted to Miami after two bad losses in Dallas, Riley changed the team’s mentality. For the next four games, the Heat played like Rambo: aggressive on defense, attacking on offense and physical on both ends, relentless and driven. In contrast, the Mavericks played back on its heels, almost trying to solve a mystery like Colombo: attempting to figure out all the angles, but running out of time at the end of the show.
In many ways, the Heat are the embodiment of Pat Riley, realizing as a group that the window of opportunity was closing, that they needed and wanted a championship more than they wanted the individual recognition. Even when it appeared the Heat couldn’t find themselves, their leader knew who they were and what they could do.
For the first time in 18 years, Pat Riley tasted championship champagne Tuesday night. And it never tasted so sweet. Maybe Pat Riley needed this, but the Heat needed him more.
After a wild weekend, which saw my wife and I buy our first home, my newborn daughter baptized, followed by Monday’s announcement and the subsequent turn of events in NGS II, I haven’t had time to collect my thoughts and put out an actual post about the NBA Playoffs.
In the spirit of that, here’s a bunch of things I’ve been collecting on an internal notepad the past few days and need to get them out. I’m fearful that if I don’t, I’m going to turn into a sports version of Ashton Kutcher in The Butterfly Effect.
Mavs-Spurs
–It was clear to from the first quarter of the Mavs-Spurs game who was should win. You just never know with the officiating these days if the right team will win. Don’t get me wrong, had the Spurs won, they would have semi-deserved it with that amazing run in the third and fourth quarter, but I was beginning to believe that David Stern, seated just rows away from Mark Cuban, really did have it in for him. Stern almost smiled at times (at least it seemed that way on TV) as the Spurs made their run back from 20 down. Cuban was glaring out the corner of his eye in Stern’s direction. Can we get a Stern-Cuban match as the main event at Wrestle Mania next year?
—Is there anyone who gets more calls, but complains more in big spots than Tim Duncan? Where were the fouls that they called on Dampier and Van Horn? Even when TNT was bold enough to show the replays, they weren’t there. The call on Van Horn in the 4th quarter, where his hands are straight up and Duncan moves into him is incredible. I must have rewound TiVo five times. I was speechless (probably because my wife, four year old son and baby daughter were all asleep). When Duncan commits the same fouls that are called on these guys, he complains every time. This reminds me…
—If this career in basketball doesn’t pan out, Duncan could always teach lessons to the Hollywood crowd on how to act surprised at their name being called during awards season with his “Who me?!? No…It..Can’t..Be…Me” Face.
—The Mavs first half was a thing of beauty, more impressive because it was the Dallas Mavericks of all teams, on the road, against the Spurs in a Game 7. Scoring on 14 of their first 16 possessions and shooting nearly 77% until about 2 minutes to go in the second quarter, it was one of the best Game 7 starts I’ve ever seen. They were playing in a different gear than San Antonio, from the out-of-bounds plays to defense, to loose balls—that first half set the tone and gave the Mavericks the confidence they needed late in the game.
—Did anyone else see the David Hasselhoff poster in the crowd during the game? Was that a Dirk Nowitzki fan? A family member? Does this in fact prove Norm MacDonald’s theory that Germans, indeed, love David Hasselhoff?
Suns-Clippers
—Just too magical to believe the Clippers could win, I guess. But it doesn’t help your cause when you play differently than you did most of the series. The Clippers had gone with a smaller lineup during their wins; a lineup which could get back down the floor on made shots and defend the perimeter well. Suddenly, Chris Kaman’s back logging significant minutes in Game 7. The Suns made him look like his feet were in concrete (which isn’t a difficult task).
—Where do the Clippers go from here? The ultimate crossroads for a downtrodden franchise is the year after it gets over the hump. So what do the Clippers do? Does Donald Sterling pony up again this summer for a couple key free agents like he did last summer? Does Elgin Baylor keep Cassell? It is conceivable that that Baylor, in a span of about three years could go from one of the ‘Worst Executives of the Year’ to ‘Executive of the Year’ to one of the ‘Worst Executives of the Year’. It all depends on the next five months.
—We’ll know everything we need to know about the Suns tonight in Game 1. Nash’s legs, their streaky shooting, their size difference to Dallas and if D’Antoni can match wits with Avery Johnson, because Gregg Popovich couldn’t. Dallas is a much different beast than the two L.A.’s. Now is when Phoenix needs Amare Stoudamire most.
Pistons-Heat
—About two weeks ago, I wrote about how Shaq had lost the 'eye of the tiger'. While I said Shaq wasn’t the dominate force he always was, he could be dominant every other game. I figured with all that rest from taking the Nets out in five games, he’d be a major force last night. But after watching the game, it’s even more clear to me that Dwyane Wade, Jason Williams, Antoine Walker and Co. have to carry this team. He was slow on defense—didn’t move his feet and got into foul trouble, only playing 29 minutes. This was in the face of a Pistons team that was a little tired from their seven-game series with the Cavs. If the Heat are going to win this series and the next, they need more from the Diesel in the games you can count on him at full strength (and to keep him away from guarding Detroit’s high screens.)
—I am anxiously waiting another “guaransheed” win for the Pistons in Game 2. It’s beyond comical.
—Still am not of the opinion that a win in the conference finals or a series win in the conference finals justifies Pat Riley booting out Stan Van Gundy. Not even winning an NBA Championship will do it. You just don’t treat “friends” like that.
There, it feels better to have emptied those thoughts--ready to work on the first finalist assignment now…and pack for the move…and change the baby’s diaper…
With the report that Larry Brown is about to become a very rich man (again) after he is eventually bought out as head coach of the New York Knicks—that’s $48 million for Brown in one calendar year, for those playing at home—I tried to make sense of it all.
What would cause a man to take a job like that in the first place? At the time of his hiring, Brown had accomplished so much in his career—but was getting older and facing much uncertainty with the Knicks.
Was it really the money? Because after one season in New York, Larry Brown is limping away wounded from his “dream job”. His impeccable record as a head coach is taking a hit and likewise, his ego.
After a trip to Blockbuster, I think I’ve got it all figured out. Brown was Al Pacino’s inspiration for his part in last fall’s Matthew McConaughey/Pacino vehicle Two for the Money.
The similarities between Pacino’s character in the film and Larry Brown are eerily similar.
Pacino plays Walter Abrams, the head of a New York gambling organization that “advises” sports gamblers. Part of the twist is that Abrams is a recovering gambling addict who can’t help but continue to get in on the action. Abrams also has some health problems that he occasionally uses to his advantage. But Pacino’s biggest contribution to this movie and the role are his speeches—which are highly entertaining and fast paced rants.
He pushes protégé Brandon Lang (McConaughey) from an 82% average in picking college football winners to a massive losing streak and basically shatters his confidence.
Stop me if you’ve heard this before.
Larry Brown plays a basketball coach, the head coach of the New York Knicks that is the key guy to a once proud franchise trying to rebound. Brown has bounced from city to city, franchise to franchise and league to league in his 30 odd years as a basketball coach. Basically, he’s what Bob Dylan wrote about in Like a Rolling Stone. Sometimes, he uses his health problems as an advantage (see: acid reflux), and his biggest contribution to games are his entertaining and painfully slow post-game press conferences.
In New York, Brown has pushed his players like Abrams pushed Lang in Two for the Money. Abrams made Lang become a personality, John Anthony. Brown makes his players mold to his personality. Sometimes that can work—but not when you’re dealing with the players that Brown is.
The careers of Stephon Marbury and Steve Francis are proof that at this point, they can’t be changed. They don’t play defense, they don’t play smart, they are infectious on and off the court (in a bad way) and don’t care what others think of them. These players are often referred to as “me-first” wanna-be superstars. And Larry doesn’t do well with those kinds of players, let alone build a team around them.
Still, the question is, how does Brown let himself get into this situation to begin with?
Maybe, like with Abrams and Lang, the money thrown at him by Knicks President Isiah Thomas was too tempting. Who could resist that kind of cash, even if there is a good chance you could fail miserably and tarnish your coaching legacy?
Something certainly caused Brown to ignore the warning signs of taking this job: 1) the roster of players who read like the tagline from , the “not ready for prime-time players”, 2) the pressure of the fan base, 3) the clueless owner, 4) the losing attitude that has become apart of the Knicks, 5) the large contracts that allowed for little flexibility for the present or near future and above all else 6) Isiah Thomas.
Getting into bed with Zeke is like shacking up with Lindsay Lohan. Sure looks enticing, but then you remember everywhere else they’ve probably been. The repercussions are endless.
Aside from that, here’s the main reason as to why Brown took this job—he really is like Abrams in Two for the Money–a compulsive gambler who can’t step away from the thrill. Only it isn’t large sums of money Brown dangles out there each time he takes a risk—but his legacy and his health become more questionable with time.
It is the only way to explain why the man can’t find a place to call home, why everywhere he goes seems to be perfect at first, but sours like milk after time.
The only way to explain Larry Brown is by using the argument Abrams makes in Two for the Money about the real reason people gamble. The addicted don’t gamble to win; they don’t even really gamble for fear of losing. To the addicted it’s the thrill that comes from losing, to know you lost it all, but you’re still alive to tell the tale.
For a consummate winner like Larry Brown, who always turns a franchise around, maybe that’s what it takes. Maybe the only thing left for coaches like Brown, Riley and Jackson is to just keep going, push as hard as possible, until you ultimately fail. Work and work until you put yourself in that ultimate no-win situation.
At least Brown will get paid handsomely for failing—not many can say that. And that’s perhaps the biggest failure from this: dealing with the idea the Knicks and Isiah Thomas of all people are willing to pay him to not coach.
Now, I understand the mindset of Larry Brown, but I won’t count him out. Soon, he’ll be coaching another team and further testing his addiction’s limit. You can bet on it.
Coming off the massive disappointment of somehow missing out on National High Five Day on Thursday—yes, I went without knowing about it and without so much as a “low-five”—I’m in an interesting frame of mind. The weekend is upon us, I found out my wife is being induced to have our daughter next Thursday and the NBA playoffs are here, so I’m happy. But there’s nothing that will get me “riled” up more than Pat Riley.
For some strange reason (or multiple ones), I can’t stand the head coach of the Miami Heat.
This in itself is amazing, considering the Los Angeles Lakers are my favorite team; I still salivate over footage from the Showtime Lakers of the 80’s, of which Riley was the architect of.
In a way, Riley is everything 80’s—even still—from the suits, to the hair right down to the yuppie attitude.
After forcing out Stan Van Gundy (whom we haven’t heard from since he left the Heat and can now be presumed to be lost in the Bermuda Triangle), Riley took over as Heat coach on “an interim basis”. In January, he went went so far as to say he wouldn't coach past this year.
Look, I understand he was tending to his ailing mother—and I wish the Riley family the best—but you tell everyone your coaching back to coach through a spokesman, after indicating heavily back in December that it was most likely a short term gig, that you would look for someone long term?
The way Riles announced it reminds me of an episode of The Office. Steve Carell was trying to help Dwight prepare for a speech and he was explaining sometimes it’s not what you say, but when and how you say it. It prompted Dwight to announce to the office that Brad Pitt had been killed in a horrifying car accident. Softly, before leaving the room, he also said that the bonuses promised to everyone weren’t happening. No one asked about it, they all were too worried about Brad Pitt.
That’s how Riley did it, how he’s always done it, with trickery. It’s always been a magic act with Pat Riley. Don’t pay attention to the right hand while he’s doing something with the left. The Heat are on the verge of the playoffs, possibly their best chance to win a title ever. Riley was gone tending to family business, and Larry Brown was taking headlines for his disappearing act in New York, the MVP debate—boom—that’s when Riley gets us, a little one sentence blurb from a spokesman; “oh, yeah, um, I’ll be back next season.”
If you don’t believe this hasn’t been planned with extreme effort and caution, you’re sadly mistaken—and you’d be playing right into Riley’s hands. From the moment he realized Shaquille O’Neal was available in the summer of 2004, Riley wanted in. He wanted Shaq, and then he wanted the sideline. But you can’t do that all at once—it has to be planned.
Or you could be forgetting that Riley could sell a ketchup popsicle to a woman in white gloves. He’s the ultimate motivator, the button pusher and 80’s yuppie. He’s the Gordon Gecko of coaching, and the NBA is his Wall Street.
He’s so good, he even convinced Stan the Man to smile and defend you as he quit. He even got Stan to disappear.
First, land Shaq, then, somewhere down the road; oust Van Gundy by using back channels with the players you brought in and the media to undermine his authority. Heck, float a rumor in the dead of summer, just to see what the reaction is.
Let yourself be quoted saying something like, “I may take a little bit more of an active, I think, participation in some of the things, but for the most part I’m content at doing what I’m doing.” Then, when the time presents itself, whisper in Van Gundy’s ear about “family” and “pressure”. For a top-off, act shocked that Van Gundy resigned. Five months later, announce your coming back for another season on the bench. It's masterful; it's brilliant.
If that’s not how it happened, he must have had some dirt on Stan being a double for Ron Jeremy, threatened to expose him and that was that.
See, Van Gundy was on the verge of making Riley obsolete; forgotten. In just two seasons as Heat head coach, Van Gundy had won 17 postseason games, 2nd all-time in Heat history to only Riley’s 18. His postseason and regular season win percentages, .605, are Miami’s best all-time. Riles can’t have that—he’s a legend, remember?
Now what I want to know is why doesn’t Riley just admit who he is and take a little credit for it—c’mon, it is impressive. Just tell us the truth, Riles, you know you want to. Maybe if you come clean about this scheme, you'll get some belated high fives.
UPDATE: Since this was posted, Pat Riley's mother has passed away. With deepest simpathies to him and his family, let me clarify this is not a personal attack on Riley during this difficult time, just my assessment of the way he's handled his position with the Heat.
