Larry and Pat: Winning, Losing, Loathing

The time has come to re-examine the professional coaching legacies of both Larry Brown and Pat Riley. Riley hasn't won an NBA title since 1988, when he had two of the five premier players who ever lived, Earvin "Magic" Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Both coaches' recent moves call their supposed sagacity into question.

Riley, heretofore known as a guru of conditioning and defense, brought Antoine Walker, Jason Williams, and Gary Payton to Miami. Were those moves supposed to create locker room harmony? How can Walker, Williams, and the fading Payton shore up a defense? When have Walker and Williams been known as team-oriented, defensive-minded players?

The decisions of Knicks GM Isiah Thomas and Brown make even less sense. The combination of Jamal Crawford, Quentin Richardson, Stephon Marbury, Eddy Curry (and now Steve Francis) is not a winning one. No one understands in what direction Brown and Isaiah Thomas are going. The Knicks are the Katrina of the NBA. Riley's smashball philosophies of the 1990s took them down, now look what Brown has done for them. And the picture is even more unclear with the addition of Francis. Francis and Marbury together? What has either won?

It is the imitation of Riley that led to the shot clock-eating, low-scoring NBA only recently revived by the likes of Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, and Gilbert Arenas. His football-esque Knicks, typified by Anthony Mason and Larry Johnson, and the plodding Miami Heat of Alonzo Mourning and P.J. Brown, unexplicably became the model for an NBA franchise. None of those teams won anything, and one cannot cite them as forerunners to the Pistons, who employ swift ball movement to wiry shooters such as Rip Hamilton and Tayshaun Prince.

In Philadelphia, Brown was never able to successfully assemble a supporting cast for Allen Iverson. Those able to score, such as Larry Hughes and Jerry Stackhouse, bolted, uninterested in serving as Iverson's caddies. Keith Van Horn and Toni Kukoc were one-dimensional. Unselfish defenders Theo Ratliff, Tyrone Hill, Dikembe Mutombo, and Eric Snow hampered the "offense." Then there were all of Brown's spats with A.I. Sure, they made the NBA Finals, as did a few of Riley's 80-point era teams. But no one remebers runners-up.

It is players, not coaches, who win championships. Bill Russell was triumphant with himself, John Havlicek, and Sam Jones, but not so in Seattle. Dick Motta had his up and downs. So did Dr. Jack. Riley has never tasted glory without the Magic touch. These final years in the careers of Brown and Riley, former college guards who learned at the helms of Dean Smith and Adolph Rupp, respectively, put these figures, once regarded as uber-coaches, in danger of being viewed by sports historians as men who benefited solely from star-laden rosters. Their recent personnel moves certainly bear no resemblance to those of say, Red Auerbach.

Phil Jackson, are you listening?