duncan228
07-05-2007, 01:56 PM
From the San Francisco Chronicle.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/07/05/SPGC3QR65L1.DTL
Carlesimo deserves his second chance
Gwen Knapp
Every now and then, when they weren't obsessing over Eva Longoria, TV cameras at a San Antonio Spurs game would graze P.J. Carlesimo's mug. The shot would last just long enough for fans of the Warriors and students of scandal to register that Carlesimo had landed safely, not exactly on his feet, but far from a full face-plant.
His gig as a Spurs assistant might have been a comedown, but working with Tim Duncan and Tony Parker had to be one long spa day for the man who once had his windpipe palmed by Latrell Sprewell. Carlesimo got three championship rings on the placid San Antonio sideline, and that seemed like the happiest possible ending to his career.
When it became known that Seattle is set to announce today that it has hired Carlesimo as its head coach, suddenly that seat on the Spurs' bench became more than a cushy refuge. It's now the Lourdes of basketball, a font of healing power.
Or perhaps there is no miracle here, because second chances routinely come by the dozen in the sports world. Head coaches are more easily replaced than players, but once they're in the club, they're rarely banished for good.
Ten years ago this December, Carlesimo looked like an exception. Just a month into their first season together, Sprewell choked him during practice, then went off to the locker room to stew before returning to threaten the coach again.
Sprewell took the instant punishment, a 68-game suspension, but everyone knew that Carlesimo would pay eventually. The incident was too extreme for him to escape blame.
He was portrayed as an abusive drill sergeant. He was, the detractors said, a white coach who didn't understand the implications of berating black players. He was tone deaf to the emotions of his best player. He had minimal NBA credentials, a winning tenure in Portland. He was out of his depth as the leader of men in their 20s and 30s, unable to maintain their respect.
He was, in short, a college coach. In the NBA, there is no meaner epithet.
The Warriors dumped him in the summer of 1999, and his hopes for another head-coaching job were lower than Monica Lewinsky's shot at a Cabinet post.
At the same time, Sprewell had been reborn. He went to the Knicks and took them to the NBA Finals. He charmed the big-city columnists who, a year and a half earlier and from 3,000 miles away, had labeled him the biggest menace in the game.
Sometime in the last few years, another turnaround began. Sprewell inflamed the national media again, when he whined about his $14.6 million salary in Minnesota and implied that it wasn't enough to inspire loyalty or hustle. His renaissance was over. Pretty soon, his career was, too. Nobody bothered to sign him for this past season, even though he still appeared to have some game left.
Meanwhile, Carlesimo hunkered down with the Spurs and watched Gregg Popovich, a taskmaster who cultivates close relationships with his players. Carlesimo, in turn, was watched by Sam Presti, the assistant general manager of the Spurs who was hired to run Seattle's front office.
That's how Carlesimo got his fresh start, by impressing someone up close. Whether he can apply Popovich's formula to a team that does not have a star of Duncan's equanimity (and who does?) remains a huge doubt. But Carlesimo, in interviews leading up to his appointment in Seattle, made it clear that he saw his time with Golden State as an aberration. The NBA experience that counted for him was the three years in Portland.
So Carlesimo would do well to look to Rick Adelman, his Warriors predecessor, for inspiration. A success in Portland, Adelman came to Oakland and decided to make Sprewell the team captain. Adelman thought the move would encourage maturity and leadership. It didn't work, and Carlesimo inherited the fallout.
From there, Adelman went on to make the Kings the most thrilling team in the NBA. It was astonishing to see him, such a milquetoast figure with the Warriors, on the sideline when Sacramento was sizzling. Second chances can be so lovely. Everybody deserves three or four.
E-mail Gwen Knapp at [email protected].
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/07/05/SPGC3QR65L1.DTL
Carlesimo deserves his second chance
Gwen Knapp
Every now and then, when they weren't obsessing over Eva Longoria, TV cameras at a San Antonio Spurs game would graze P.J. Carlesimo's mug. The shot would last just long enough for fans of the Warriors and students of scandal to register that Carlesimo had landed safely, not exactly on his feet, but far from a full face-plant.
His gig as a Spurs assistant might have been a comedown, but working with Tim Duncan and Tony Parker had to be one long spa day for the man who once had his windpipe palmed by Latrell Sprewell. Carlesimo got three championship rings on the placid San Antonio sideline, and that seemed like the happiest possible ending to his career.
When it became known that Seattle is set to announce today that it has hired Carlesimo as its head coach, suddenly that seat on the Spurs' bench became more than a cushy refuge. It's now the Lourdes of basketball, a font of healing power.
Or perhaps there is no miracle here, because second chances routinely come by the dozen in the sports world. Head coaches are more easily replaced than players, but once they're in the club, they're rarely banished for good.
Ten years ago this December, Carlesimo looked like an exception. Just a month into their first season together, Sprewell choked him during practice, then went off to the locker room to stew before returning to threaten the coach again.
Sprewell took the instant punishment, a 68-game suspension, but everyone knew that Carlesimo would pay eventually. The incident was too extreme for him to escape blame.
He was portrayed as an abusive drill sergeant. He was, the detractors said, a white coach who didn't understand the implications of berating black players. He was tone deaf to the emotions of his best player. He had minimal NBA credentials, a winning tenure in Portland. He was out of his depth as the leader of men in their 20s and 30s, unable to maintain their respect.
He was, in short, a college coach. In the NBA, there is no meaner epithet.
The Warriors dumped him in the summer of 1999, and his hopes for another head-coaching job were lower than Monica Lewinsky's shot at a Cabinet post.
At the same time, Sprewell had been reborn. He went to the Knicks and took them to the NBA Finals. He charmed the big-city columnists who, a year and a half earlier and from 3,000 miles away, had labeled him the biggest menace in the game.
Sometime in the last few years, another turnaround began. Sprewell inflamed the national media again, when he whined about his $14.6 million salary in Minnesota and implied that it wasn't enough to inspire loyalty or hustle. His renaissance was over. Pretty soon, his career was, too. Nobody bothered to sign him for this past season, even though he still appeared to have some game left.
Meanwhile, Carlesimo hunkered down with the Spurs and watched Gregg Popovich, a taskmaster who cultivates close relationships with his players. Carlesimo, in turn, was watched by Sam Presti, the assistant general manager of the Spurs who was hired to run Seattle's front office.
That's how Carlesimo got his fresh start, by impressing someone up close. Whether he can apply Popovich's formula to a team that does not have a star of Duncan's equanimity (and who does?) remains a huge doubt. But Carlesimo, in interviews leading up to his appointment in Seattle, made it clear that he saw his time with Golden State as an aberration. The NBA experience that counted for him was the three years in Portland.
So Carlesimo would do well to look to Rick Adelman, his Warriors predecessor, for inspiration. A success in Portland, Adelman came to Oakland and decided to make Sprewell the team captain. Adelman thought the move would encourage maturity and leadership. It didn't work, and Carlesimo inherited the fallout.
From there, Adelman went on to make the Kings the most thrilling team in the NBA. It was astonishing to see him, such a milquetoast figure with the Warriors, on the sideline when Sacramento was sizzling. Second chances can be so lovely. Everybody deserves three or four.
E-mail Gwen Knapp at [email protected].