|
Caseloads
Posts: 27725
Alba Posts: 0
Joined: 7/29/2001
Member: #41
|
His hands on the wheel, his SUV turning onto the Hutchinson River Parkway, the man responsible for coaching Patrick Ewing longest in the center's life was rewinding back to his trips to suburban Maryland in the summer of 2000, delegated as the last line of defense between a disgruntled and disillusioned star's demand for a trade and Knicks' management's desire to grant it.
"You are respected in New York,'" Jeff Van Gundy implored Ewing.
"You are beloved."
Two trips to Potomac, Md., two lost causes, with Ewing listening him out, leaning forward and telling him, "It's time, Jeff. It's time." It was going to end for everyone with the Knicks. Everyone. Dave Checketts. Ernie Grunfeld. Pat Riley. Van Gundy. No one goes forever here. No one. This was true for everyone else, but it never should've been true for the greatest Knick ever. Even now, it never should've ended this way.
"I never wanted him to leave on the assumption that the grass will be greener somewhere else," Van Gundy said "I tried to convince him. So much was just a vocal minority getting too much weight here. I still think I'm right."
Patrick Ewing was beloved. He was respected. Van Gundy tried to tell him. Ewing didn't listen. He was too stubborn. He didn't believe it. Now, he knows. Now, he understands. This was the greatest gift Ewing could give New York: One more night at the Garden with an electricity in the gymnasium, with the magic of his No. 33 raised to the rafters, retired forever.
Who else could get all these people to the Garden for a game now? Who else could get Michael Jordan and Chris Mullin, Willis Reed and Earl Monroe, John Starks and Charles Oakley, Dave Checketts and Van Gundy? Out of another late winter day, out of another lost Knicks' season, there was a Garden night out of yesterday, out of the best of times.
On the way, Van Gundy remembered Ewing giving him respect as a young coach, when he had done nothing to deserve it. He remembered Ewing's endorsement cementing him into a long-term contract on the job, and remembered Ewing never getting his chance at Tim Duncan in the 1999 NBA Finals, when deep down, Van Gundy understood that Ewing had run out of time to be a champion.
Van Gundy has made this trip to the Garden just twice since resigning on Dec. 8, 2001, bringing his daughter to a Liberty game and catching his old Providence guard, Billy Donovan, coaching Florida in the preseason NIT. He remembers his first drive to the Garden as coach of the Knicks in 1996, about Michael Jordan and the Bulls on a Sunday afternoon, about the reassurance in his heart that Ewing was waiting there too.
This never changed. This never waned. All those nights over the 12 years together here, including his final 5½ as head coach, it warmed his heart to walk into the locker room and see No. 33 sitting at his locker, the music throbbing in his headphones, the determination burrowed into his brow.
"Every time I ever made this trip," Van Gundy said Friday afternoon, "I never worried about Patrick being ready to play. About him caring about the results of winning, about him doing all he could to win. And coming back the other way home, I was never disappointed with the effort that I got. Never once."
They never should've traded him. Never. It still breaks Van Gundy's heart. Ewing should've been a Knick for life. The rest of them, they come and go. Ewing should've been a Knick for life. If only Ewing would've believed him. If only he would've listened. Awaiting him downstairs on a visit, Van Gundy will never forget stopping to study the trophy room stretching the years at Cambridge Rindge & Latin and Georgetown, the two Olympic gold medals, the 11 All-Star seasons, and his choice as one the 50 greatest ever.
All laid out, all there before his eyes. "You just forget sometimes, the enormity of what he's accomplished," Van Gundy said.
One more night to remember at the Garden, one more to tell Ewing that he was wrong about New York. That they did care, that they did love him.
"There was a lot of bad that came out of that trade," Van Gundy said. "But before he was done playing, in Seattle and Orlando, because of all that happened in those two places, he developed a much keener awareness of just how good he had it in New York, with his teammates, with the organization, with the fans. And in turn, the rest us realized how good we had it with him here.
"And I don't think he would've ever known that if he retired a Knick."
Between his seasons with Seattle and Orlando, there was this summer day at the Knicks' old practice gym in Purchase, N.Y., where Ewing had come to work out one afternoon. All those times Van Gundy tried to tell Ewing near the end in New York that everyone else loved him, something strange had happened with him and Van Gundy. Maybe it had to do with playing time and shots in his final season under the coach, maybe it was just the strain of the injuries that decimated Ewing. Whatever, it was, Van Gundy confessed, "I always felt there was some uneasiness between him and I."
"And so, somehow it came up in the gym that day, with just Herb [Williams], Patrick, and me there. And in these 20 minutes in the gym, we talked so frankly about what he meant to me. I told Patrick, 'I can't believe you didn't know how I felt.' "I've always been so happy that I had those 20 minutes at SUNY-Purchase with him."
Everyone else, they had 30 minutes with Patrick Ewing at Madison Square Garden on Friday night, and his old coach was right: Ewing wasn't just respected in New York, but beloved. As No. 33 left the locker room, left the middle of the court and started its rise to the rafters, a glorious time was gone in the Garden.
So Jeff Van Gundy climbed into his SUV, turned toward the West Side Highway, never staying to see the end of the Knicks-Magic game. He wanted to remember the Garden the way it used to be, the way it always was at its best; everyone standing and cheering for Patrick Ewing, the greatest Knick of all.
|
3/1/2003 3:49 PM
