Back in action with a message from Phil Jackson

 

New York

Lock the windows, close the door, I have returned from five years of self-imposed exile…actually three were self-imposed, two were court-ordered.

Why, you may ask, am I resurfacing now? All I can say is, …

1-Damn community service got old real slow.

2-Class actions aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

3-I was tired of not knowing what’s real, imagined and vindictive in today’s shamelessly leaked info-for-protection from lethal criticism NBA.

There’s a shocking lack of truth serum out there, and I’m the antidote, I say in all immodesty.

Doesn’t matter who takes me into their confidence—agents, executives, coaches, players, assistants, video coordinators, trainers, equipment manages, members of the media or past and present commissioners—and plants melodious or nasty nothings in my brain to make themselves or their loved ones look good, or others look bad, nobody will be above getting exposed should they deserve a can of ass whipping.

While I’ve not been writing, and only paying peripheral attention to the radical changes in the game and roster rotations (trusted column castigator Frank Drucker promises to carry me, as usual, for as long as it takes me to pretend to catch up), what better dysfunctional district to start opining about than the fake franchise known as the Knickerbockers.

Accomplishing less than the Republican-led Congress—and with about as much in-fighting—the Knicks ended last season, er, last week, as such a total train wreck, it gave the MTA something to shoot for.

So much disarray to dissect, it’s a good thing Al Gore invented the Internet.

But today you’ll only get a preview.

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I contacted Phil Jackson to tell him I was planning to make him the subject of my first column. Here is the response I got from the Zen Hen:

Peter, I heard your message via voice mail. I’m glad you’re going to get back in the mix and begin writing again. It’s a new world out there, but I don’t consider it journalism.  However, sports writing has always been a mix of opinionating and you were one of the best.

For my own part, I’m not able, yet, to begin opining. However, I’m still on hold about WTF just went down the past 3 years of Knick basketball. In that regard, I’m not angry, but disappointed I couldn’t fulfill the mission. Winning is a priority in NY and I couldn’t get those guys into at least a 500% season so we could get some free space to rebuild.

philj

cc-by-sa-2.0/keith allison

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Say whatever you want about Carmelo Anthony (and we shall), but give him props for this…he’s achieved way more player movement off the court via proposed trades than he’s ever achieved on it.

Here’s the problem staring at the tap dance team of Mills and Perry. They’ve openly declared they’ll be ‘no buyout’ and, as of yet, no suitable witness relocation places have been identified. I say, unequivocally, stop shopping Melo immediately!

Phil Jackson, the local media and the majority of Knicks’ fans may crave his vaporization, but you can’t deny the undeniable; his most influential teammate, Krispas Portzingis wants him back, as does Tim Hardaway Jr., and others.

Yes, there’s no question Melo wants to join the Rockets or the Cavaliers in order to compete for real for a title. But there’s also no doubt about his love for New York. So, unless his suitors abruptly reverse their tag sale mentality, hopefully Olympic Melo comes to Knicks’ camp happy, hungry, humble and hydrated.

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Two days ago, Leslie Alexander announced his intention to sell the Rockets, which he bought for $88 million halfway through the 1993-94 season ready-made (by Steve Patterson, whom he quickly fired) to win a title. Dave Checketts, I’m told, is headlining one of a number of groups poised to purchase.

Last year, his same group tried to buy the controlling interest in the Nets. Nyet, said Makhail Prokhorov.

Full control of the Rockets, who are worth 1.65B, according to Forbes, will merely cost Checketts’ backers $2 plus billion dollars. That’s what Steve Ballmer paid for the Clippers. Alexander, I’m informed, is dead set on surpassing that number, which was deemed outrageously high at the time.

To ensure maximum sale price, Alexander arranged to have himself recorded slurring minorities.

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Depressed to report, Sidney Green, 56, suffered a stroke three days ago. A product of Brooklyn’s Thomas Jefferson High School, where I first met him, the 6-9 macho forward was chosen by the Bulls out of UNLV in 1983 with the fifth pick of the draft. For the last ten years or so, following head coaching jobs at Southhampton, the University of North Florida and Florida Atlantic University, Green has been working as an team ambassador for the Bulls.

sidneyg

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