timvp
03-11-2005, 10:52 AM
No telling when Carlesimo will get another chance
By Kirk Bohls
SAN ANTONIO, Texas - P.J. Carlesimo's phone never rings.
Since his forced exit as coach of the Warriors not even halfway through the 1999-2000 season, a whopping 61 NBA head coaching vacancies have been posted. That number, which includes interim fill-ins, doesn't count the Portland and Los Angeles Lakers jobs that recently became available.
Of those positions, Carlesimo has been seriously considered for exactly ...
Zero.
And we all know why.
Carlesimo, Gregg Popovich's tremendously valued, top assistant on the San Antonio Spurs bench, may have broad respect from peers and players and a job and a wife and 2-year-old son that he loves, but his phone number might as well be unlisted when it comes to interest from NBA owners for one life-altering reason.
An enraged Latrell Sprewell tried to gauge Carlesimo's neck size after a practice one December day in 1997, forever linking the two, even though Carlesimo had coached Sprewell for just 13 games.
On that fateful day, however, the disgruntled, immensely talented All-Star guard stormed out of a Golden State practice and returned to violently attack and attempt to choke his head coach.
Sprewell was suspended for 68 games.
Carlesimo got life.
Or so it seems. Sprewell rehabilitated his trouble-maker reputation in stints with the Knicks and the Timberwolves, even though he is still misguided enough to say recently that his paltry $14.6 million salary in Minnesota was insufficient to put macaroni and cheese on the table for his family.
"It certainly was not something that helped me," Carlesimo said. "But I don't think that was a make-or-break thing. I think (owners) have to come up with some other reason because I don't think they can't hire me because of that."
Spurs general manager R.C. Buford said he has had only a few "discussions" with other clubs about the 55-year-old Carlesimo. And Popovich said other teams are "shortsighted and immature" for not giving his aide another opportunity.
While Notre Dame and Cleveland are raiding Super Bowl champion New England for its coordinators, Carlesimo might as well be invisible as an assistant for the NBA's model franchise.
"Players and coaches alike can get pigeonholed for something," Popovich said. "Sometimes, one event defines a player, a league or a coach, and it's not fair and it's unwise for people who do that. They miss the boat."
Carlesimo can go months without being asked about Sprewell. They have never had a single conversation about the incident even though their paths have frequently crossed in NBA arenas, and they have been cordial to each other.
The coach doesn't begrudge his attacker's success and isn't looking for closure with a sit-down or a formal apology.
"Very few can play basketball like Latrell Sprewell can," he said. "There are a lot more people who can coach basketball than can play basketball at this level."
As for Carlesimo, the visible marks on his neck have long since healed. And so has his wounded psyche. Of course, it didn't hurt that he married a sports psychologist six months after the celebrated episode.
"My wife, Carolyn, keeps telling me if I listened to her more," he said, "I'd still be coaching at Golden State."
But don't feel sorry for Carlesimo. He doesn't.
That's just the way he was raised in Scranton, Pa., as the son of the former Fordham football coach and athletic director who died in June 2003 when the Spurs were en route to their second NBA title.
His dad, Pete, was the highly regarded executive director of the NIT and a popular after-dinner speaker, but P.J. is no less befriended for his outgoing personality that belies a demanding, some former players suggest even abusive, style as a coach.
Both Carlesimo and the Spurs take issue with the abusive tag.
"I didn't think so then, and I don't now," Carlesimo said of the accusation that he is overly harsh with players. "If anybody says I'm a tough guy, that doesn't bother me. But abusive, no. I don't think that's accurate."
The perception that he was, however, may linger. He has been a winner, taking Seton Hall to six NCAA tournaments -- including the championship game in 1989 -- and guiding Portland to three NBA playoff berths and as many first-round exits before moving to Golden State.
His Trail Blazers couldn't get past John Stockton and Karl Malone's Jazz or Charles Barkley and Danny Ainge's Suns, so he was let go despite a 137-109 record. His Warriors never sniffed the postseason and won just 46 games in Carlesimo's 21/2 seasons.
"P.J.'s got a zillion friends and doesn't have an unkind thing to say about anyone," said NBA play-by-play man Steve Jones, who worked on the Warriors' broadcast team at the time of Sprewell's assault. "But on the court, he's a scowling, yelling coach. You watch him, and you're thinking, 'This is just a crazed individual.'"
That hardly describes the upbeat Carlesimo, who can remember the name of most every person he ever met and has such perfect recall that Spurs scout Lance Blanks calls him Rain Man.
As the oldest of 10 children, Carlesimo has always been able to reflect on what he has and not what he doesn't, partly because he thinks he has one of the best jobs in the NBA. That, too, is inbred. Each of his parents had nine siblings as well.
He contemplated a career as a lawyer and was accepted to Fordham's law school. Fired 27 games into that fateful final season with the Warriors, Carlesimo was compensated for the last two seasons of his five-year, $15 million contract. He opted to work for ESPN radio, the Spurs broadcast team and NBC, a decision he said may have sent a message to potential employers that he was done coaching, although he kept his hand in the business by attending Larry Brown's and Jerry Sloan's training camps.
"He's really an asset to our team," Buford said. "When someone makes a decision to bring him on, they're going to get a really good coach who is at a very good point in his career, professionally and personally."
And remember, this is a coach so steeped in knowledge and work ethic that Popovich says he'd "be lost without him." Still, the Mike Fratellos and George Karls have a chokehold, if you will, on coaching hires while Carlesimo sits and waits.
He's had many chances to be the top guy in college. "Fabulous offers," he calls them.
Notre Dame called him on his honeymoon. He wasn't interested in St. John's, a short trip from his last college gig at Seton Hall. Of course, this is a guy who turned down Kentucky before Rick Pitino took it because he was happy in the Big East.
But he's yet to get an interview for a third NBA head coaching job despite a yearning to return to the bench in that role.
"To me, there's no comparison," Carlesimo said. "If you like coaching, the NBA is where it's at."
But it's a shame the league doesn't know where he's at.
http://www.contracostatimes.com/mld/cctimes/sports/11108745.htm
By Kirk Bohls
SAN ANTONIO, Texas - P.J. Carlesimo's phone never rings.
Since his forced exit as coach of the Warriors not even halfway through the 1999-2000 season, a whopping 61 NBA head coaching vacancies have been posted. That number, which includes interim fill-ins, doesn't count the Portland and Los Angeles Lakers jobs that recently became available.
Of those positions, Carlesimo has been seriously considered for exactly ...
Zero.
And we all know why.
Carlesimo, Gregg Popovich's tremendously valued, top assistant on the San Antonio Spurs bench, may have broad respect from peers and players and a job and a wife and 2-year-old son that he loves, but his phone number might as well be unlisted when it comes to interest from NBA owners for one life-altering reason.
An enraged Latrell Sprewell tried to gauge Carlesimo's neck size after a practice one December day in 1997, forever linking the two, even though Carlesimo had coached Sprewell for just 13 games.
On that fateful day, however, the disgruntled, immensely talented All-Star guard stormed out of a Golden State practice and returned to violently attack and attempt to choke his head coach.
Sprewell was suspended for 68 games.
Carlesimo got life.
Or so it seems. Sprewell rehabilitated his trouble-maker reputation in stints with the Knicks and the Timberwolves, even though he is still misguided enough to say recently that his paltry $14.6 million salary in Minnesota was insufficient to put macaroni and cheese on the table for his family.
"It certainly was not something that helped me," Carlesimo said. "But I don't think that was a make-or-break thing. I think (owners) have to come up with some other reason because I don't think they can't hire me because of that."
Spurs general manager R.C. Buford said he has had only a few "discussions" with other clubs about the 55-year-old Carlesimo. And Popovich said other teams are "shortsighted and immature" for not giving his aide another opportunity.
While Notre Dame and Cleveland are raiding Super Bowl champion New England for its coordinators, Carlesimo might as well be invisible as an assistant for the NBA's model franchise.
"Players and coaches alike can get pigeonholed for something," Popovich said. "Sometimes, one event defines a player, a league or a coach, and it's not fair and it's unwise for people who do that. They miss the boat."
Carlesimo can go months without being asked about Sprewell. They have never had a single conversation about the incident even though their paths have frequently crossed in NBA arenas, and they have been cordial to each other.
The coach doesn't begrudge his attacker's success and isn't looking for closure with a sit-down or a formal apology.
"Very few can play basketball like Latrell Sprewell can," he said. "There are a lot more people who can coach basketball than can play basketball at this level."
As for Carlesimo, the visible marks on his neck have long since healed. And so has his wounded psyche. Of course, it didn't hurt that he married a sports psychologist six months after the celebrated episode.
"My wife, Carolyn, keeps telling me if I listened to her more," he said, "I'd still be coaching at Golden State."
But don't feel sorry for Carlesimo. He doesn't.
That's just the way he was raised in Scranton, Pa., as the son of the former Fordham football coach and athletic director who died in June 2003 when the Spurs were en route to their second NBA title.
His dad, Pete, was the highly regarded executive director of the NIT and a popular after-dinner speaker, but P.J. is no less befriended for his outgoing personality that belies a demanding, some former players suggest even abusive, style as a coach.
Both Carlesimo and the Spurs take issue with the abusive tag.
"I didn't think so then, and I don't now," Carlesimo said of the accusation that he is overly harsh with players. "If anybody says I'm a tough guy, that doesn't bother me. But abusive, no. I don't think that's accurate."
The perception that he was, however, may linger. He has been a winner, taking Seton Hall to six NCAA tournaments -- including the championship game in 1989 -- and guiding Portland to three NBA playoff berths and as many first-round exits before moving to Golden State.
His Trail Blazers couldn't get past John Stockton and Karl Malone's Jazz or Charles Barkley and Danny Ainge's Suns, so he was let go despite a 137-109 record. His Warriors never sniffed the postseason and won just 46 games in Carlesimo's 21/2 seasons.
"P.J.'s got a zillion friends and doesn't have an unkind thing to say about anyone," said NBA play-by-play man Steve Jones, who worked on the Warriors' broadcast team at the time of Sprewell's assault. "But on the court, he's a scowling, yelling coach. You watch him, and you're thinking, 'This is just a crazed individual.'"
That hardly describes the upbeat Carlesimo, who can remember the name of most every person he ever met and has such perfect recall that Spurs scout Lance Blanks calls him Rain Man.
As the oldest of 10 children, Carlesimo has always been able to reflect on what he has and not what he doesn't, partly because he thinks he has one of the best jobs in the NBA. That, too, is inbred. Each of his parents had nine siblings as well.
He contemplated a career as a lawyer and was accepted to Fordham's law school. Fired 27 games into that fateful final season with the Warriors, Carlesimo was compensated for the last two seasons of his five-year, $15 million contract. He opted to work for ESPN radio, the Spurs broadcast team and NBC, a decision he said may have sent a message to potential employers that he was done coaching, although he kept his hand in the business by attending Larry Brown's and Jerry Sloan's training camps.
"He's really an asset to our team," Buford said. "When someone makes a decision to bring him on, they're going to get a really good coach who is at a very good point in his career, professionally and personally."
And remember, this is a coach so steeped in knowledge and work ethic that Popovich says he'd "be lost without him." Still, the Mike Fratellos and George Karls have a chokehold, if you will, on coaching hires while Carlesimo sits and waits.
He's had many chances to be the top guy in college. "Fabulous offers," he calls them.
Notre Dame called him on his honeymoon. He wasn't interested in St. John's, a short trip from his last college gig at Seton Hall. Of course, this is a guy who turned down Kentucky before Rick Pitino took it because he was happy in the Big East.
But he's yet to get an interview for a third NBA head coaching job despite a yearning to return to the bench in that role.
"To me, there's no comparison," Carlesimo said. "If you like coaching, the NBA is where it's at."
But it's a shame the league doesn't know where he's at.
http://www.contracostatimes.com/mld/cctimes/sports/11108745.htm