Via The Knicks Wall

By Joe Schackman

The year that Jeremy Lin captivated a nation and brought one lapsed Knicks fan back into the fold. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

2012 A.D. taught me one important lesson. I’m a shitty Knicks fan.

During the most recent dark age of the storied New York franchise, I was nowhere to be found. Isiah Thomas was busy stuffing his roster with the likes of Stephon Marbury, Steve Francis and Zach Randolph, and I was busy doing... well... other things. The Knicks were lifeless, rudderless and couldn’t get out of their own way. I was in no mood to go along for that ride. Sorry, New York, but things were complicated. It was me, not you.

Yet lo and behold, the orange and blue eventually found their way back into my life. First Amar’e came to town, and that piqued my interest. Then the excitement grew when Melo arrived home. But the one who finally convinced me to give it another go was not one of the Knicks’ superstars. It was a slightly awkward, couch-dwelling kid named Jeremy Lin.

At least half the adjectives in the English language have been slapped onto Linsanity, but none have stuck. It’s still a hard concept to express in words. I mean, really think about what happened. A 23-year-old Asian American, Ivy League grad, who even the biggest basketball diehards had never heard of, suddenly finds himself at the epicenter of the sports world. Look at his resume and you’d think he had a better chance of owning an NBA team than running its offense. And yet here he was.

And there I was, in at the ground level, having casually turned on the February Knicks-Nets game that would put Lin on the map. He carried the team, scoring 25 en route to a win. Then in his first professional start he scored 28 against the Jazz. He was must-see TV, and I was giving a crap again. Rushing home to watch games. Yelling about how Lin defied all of sports’ truisms. He was a throwback to the time when some anonymous young kid could stumble off the farm with a 95-mile-per-hour fastball and a ticket to the Majors. Lin was the kind of out-of-nowhere star that you simply don’t see anymore, and because of that, I cared whether the Knicks won or lost for the first time in a long time.

The hyperbole surrounding Lin’s play was intense, of course. Everyone knew that what he was doing was unsustainable. But at the same time, his success wasn’t all smoke and mirrors. You don’t fall ass backwards into 38 points against Kobe and the Lakers. You don’t hit a game-winning, buzzer-beating shot against the Raptors. Not if you don’t have some serious chops. Lin played the best ball of his life, yes, but he did it long enough to prove he belonged.

Then came the injury, the early playoff exit and then the off-season move to the Rockets. I was crushed. I’d grown attached to the Lin-led Knicks, and it didn’t matter what it took to keep that going. I could justify the cap hits and wish away Jim Dolan’s money like it was nothing. The men in charge saw it differently. Soon Lin was packing his bags.

As 2012 turned to 2013, the Knicks showed that they are better than ever. Their play is still infectious, but without Lin it hasn’t been the same for me. Maybe it never will. Maybe I’ll always look back at 2012 as the year that set the bar too high, that haunts my fandom.

Or maybe I’ll just stop caring about the Knicks again. It worked the first time.

Joe Schackman is an editor and co-founder of Began in '96.

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Via The Urban Daily

By Frank Flores

The year that LeBron won everything. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

Ask even the most casual sports fan in a few years about the most memorable sports moments of 2012, and you’ll get a bunch of different answers. But the one I think will stay with everybody for the next few decades and even longer is that 2012 was the year that LeBron James won his first NBA championship. It was the year that the best player in the league ticked the top task off his to-do list, the year that the King received his crown. And when he was done with that, he went ahead and won his third MVP and second Olympic gold medal for good measure. LeBron simply had one of the greatest years in basketball history.

The title was the culmination of a journey for the most hyped man in sports. From gaining national fame in high school to going first overall to his hometown Cavaliers, to winning three MVPs in four seasons and uttering those poorly planned words about “talents” and “South Beach,” high expectations surrounded and engulfed LeBron. No matter how well he played, it was never quite good enough for our liking. Nine years into his NBA career, that finally changed.

***

The game always came easily to LeBron, that much is for sure. But there’s a crucial sliver of difference in the NBA between playing the game well and playing the game successfully. Nowhere was that more apparent than in the aftermath of the Heat’s 2011 finals loss to the Dallas Mavericks. LeBron was in disbelief. He’d worked so hard to get to this point, and then when it mattered most, came up small. The numbers were there, and the Heat were clearly the most talented in the league. But numbers and talent only went so far. LeBron would have to improve as a leader and teammate; he’d have to drag his squad through that championship barrier.

When the lockout-shortened next season began, the Heat promptly beat the Mavericks and then took off from there. They cruised to a 46-20 record that put them second in the Eastern Conference. LeBron led the charge, putting up typical LeBron/MVP numbers (27.1 points, 7.9 rebounds, 6.2 assists) and shooting 53% from the field. More than any other year, though, this season wasn’t about the award.

LeBron, and by extension, the Heat, hit full stride in the playoffs. A 4-1 series win against the Knicks. Down 2-1 to the Pacers, he put up 40/18/9 to tie that series. Two games later, it was over. In the Eastern Conference Finals, a 45/15/5 night staved off elimination. By comparison, game seven was a formality. LeBron, and by extension, the Heat, were back in the finals.

This time, Miami faced Kevin Durant and the Oklahoma City Thunder. The Heat dropped the first game, and those familiar whispers got louder. Nine years, and no ring to show for all that work. LeBron stamped them out, and quick. It’d been nine years, he didn’t have time to play around. A series that many thought would go the distance went just five. There were competitive moments, but rarely competitive games. LeBron in the deciding game racked up a triple double, and finished the series averaging 30.3 points, 9.7 rebounds and 5.6 assists. The burden lifted, the whispers melted away. Finals MVP. Check. NBA championship. Check plus.

***

For many, that’d be a great year’s work. But days later, LeBron was off to London to play for the Olympic team. On a squad full of the best players in the world, he was the best of the best, and also the most versatile. LeBron started out of position at power forward, and against Spain even tooled around a bit at center. He scored at will, and yet knew when to take a back seat to the rest of his fellow all-stars. Like the MVP race and NBA finals, the gold medal at some point became an inevitability. LeBron became just the second player ever to win the regular season and finals MVPs, NBA championship and Olympic gold in the same year. In late 2012, he added Sports Illustrated Sportsman of the Year to that haul.

Perhaps best of all, though, he closed the book on the Old LeBron, the one with all the numbers and none of the accomplishments. The one who played the game well, but not successfully. Here was LeBron James, triumphant and unburdened, a king with his crown at the end of a truly terrific year.

Frank Flores is a contributor for Began in '96, and writes about the Knicks at Why is it taking so long.

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By Joe Schackman

Jeremy Lin made it in New York, but New York didn't make him. 

Loyalty is as dead a sports term as the flying wedge and Big East football.

The moment free agency went mainstream, athletes became mercenaries, hired help acquired by the highest bidder. The business side of sports came bursting through our black-and-white TVs, eventually leaving us with what is now a system where the concept of loyalty between player and franchise is worth about as much as a Zimbabwean dollar. 

This isn’t some misguided call for the return of loyalty. No, teams make far too much money to even pretend like that could happen. And the athletes shouldn’t factor it into their decisions, either. For stars like Peyton Manning and LeBron James, life is governed by one Jay-Z quote: “I’m not a businessman, I’m a business, man.”

Jeremy Lin is one of the most organically interesting sports stories ever. An Asian-American and Harvard grad, he broke into a league where few from either background have thrived before. Then he lit up Madison Square Garden in a way that no one has for decades. And now it is over.

Lin is not returning to the New York Knicks. He took his talents to the open market and negotiated the highest contract he could. It was a deal that the Knicks were unwilling to match. His departure prompted an angry uprising against owner James Dolan and the Knicks’ front office, but in the fray Lin hasn’t escaped unscathed either. Many fans feel that he “owed” it to the Knicks to return to the team. They believed he should be grateful for the Knicks’ willingness to play him when two teams had already passed.

But does he really owe the Knicks anything? It’s not as if the Knicks took a flier on him in the draft, patiently groomed him and then stuck with him when he struggled on the court. Rather, they picked up a discarded player at a position where they were thin. He snuck his way into some late-game action against the Nets in February and exploded. His mercurial play in subsequent games basically made it impossible for the Knicks NOT to play him. It was an easy decision, and one they made solely for the good of the team, not out of any particular desire to see Lin succeed.

So when it came time for Lin to negotiate a contract, he took the Knicks to business school. He agreed to an initial offer with the Rockets, and then the Knicks played their hand too early, with one unnamed official saying the team would match a contract up to “one billion dollars.” Lin used it as leverage to get a better deal with the Rockets that included more guaranteed money. Everything spiraled from there.

Some Knicks fans are stunned by that move. They can’t believe their budding star would leverage the team that birthed his career just to make a bit more money. But can you blame him? Who are we to tell another individual how much money they should make? Who are we to meddle in their finances? It’s not as if Dwight Howard is sitting at the conference table when you ask your boss for a promotion. If you’re appalled by the millions that the athletes make, then here’s an easy fix for you: turn off the TV.

At the same time those fans were begrudging Lin and his extra millions, they were getting on board with the idea of a “stretch provision.” Simply, it’s a new CBA rule that would allow the Knicks to mitigate their losses if Lin ended up a bust. That’s right. Fans were bashing Lin for signing a higher contract while discussing how to cut him from the team if he was not successful.

Come on. This is an industry where the Colts cut Peyton Manning, arguably one of the top five quarterbacks of all time. The Colts, who owe all of their recent success (and probably a new stadium) to Peyton, released him to make room for a rookie quarterback because Manning’s health represented too big of a risk. That would be on par with Berkshire Hathaway firing Warren Buffett to hire some 20-something head of the Yale investment club.

Despite all the evidence, we fans still operate under this facade of loyalty. We recognize that sports is just another industry, but we still want our players to feel the same connection to us that we do to them. Lin gave Knicks fans a reason to watch, and Knicks fans want to be the reason Lin plays. They want him to stand up and say, “I love New York, especially you guys, so much that I’m giving up millions to play here.” But the cold truth is that that’s naive. Because shit, this is a business, man.

Joe Schackman is an editor and co-founder of Began in '96.

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By James Epstein

The New York Knicks were sometimes successful but always memorable. Now they go into the offseason needing to answer a number of big questions.

The New York Knicks. Talk about a roller coaster ride for the ages.

The season started with the Tyson Chandler signing and championship aspirations, hit its first major drop with an 8-15 start, then twisted and turned as Jeremy Lin took the world by storm, Mike D’Antoni left, Mike Woodson stepped in, and Carmelo Anthony took over. And after all that, Amar’e Stoudemire fought a fire extinguisher. 

What a ride. Would you sign up for another season? I’d hesitate too. So where do we go from here? These are the most important questions that the Knicks must answer this offseason:

Who will be the head coach?

Finishing the season on an 18-6 run and snapping New York’s playoff win drought gave Mike Woodson a strong case for the permanent coaching gig. Not only did he implement a system that helped the Knicks finish in the top five in defensive efficiency, he won the respect of his players with his emphasis on accountability.

However, the Knicks should nevertheless explore the possibility of signing Phil Jackson. The Zen Master is just one year into retirement, but wife Jenny Buss is already saying that she wouldn’t be surprised if Jackson was back on the sidelines soon. Chandler, Stoudemire and Anthony are perfect pieces for Jackson’s triangle offense. And best of all, James Dolan could do what he can’t do with players and grossly outbid the competition.

While hiring Jackson would make for quite the scene in New York, though, it’s likely too much of a gamble for a team just starting to find its identity. Jackson would require full autonomy over the team, which would clash with Dolan’s controlling persona, and there’s no guarantee he would be on board for more than a couple years. Considering all of that, expect Woodson to officially take the helm in what reports are saying would be a four-year deal. He’s already improved the Knicks in the locker room, now he just has to do the same with them on the court.

Prediction: Mike Woodson signs for four Years

What will the Knicks do at point guard?

New York is already over the salary cap, which means it only has its exceptions ($5.0 million, $2.5 million bi-annual and four $1.9 million veteran contracts) to use on free agents. That’s not a lot of wiggle room, but the $5.0 million exception should be earmarked for the franchise’s next floor general. Point guard is a crucial position, and for the Knicks, the choice could come down to upstart Jeremy Lin or aging two-time MVP Steve Nash.

Jeremy Lin took over the city midway through he season. In 25 starts, he averaged 18.2 points, 3.7 rebounds, 7.7 assists and yes, 4.7 turnovers. He will be just 24 years old going into next season, and while teams everywhere will try to steal Lin, the Knicks can match any offer others might make. They just first have to decide if he’s the face of the future or a brief sensation on the verge of falling back to Earth.

Meanwhile, Steve Nash has already spent years living in New York City during the offseason. He even holds his annual soccer tournament at Chelsea Piers. And on the court, he’s been clear about his willingness to leave Phoenix in search of a championship contender. The Knicks could argue that they fit his needs, and as a result will almost certainly factor into his decision on where to play next year. However, more established teams like the Heat, Lakers and Grizzlies will pursue Nash as well, and he might prove too expensive for New York.

On this question, the difference maker is Jeremy Lin’s returns at the box office. Dolan will not be able to ignore his star power and the immediate impact he had on the enthusiasm surrounding the team. As long as Lin has the confidence to play as an equal alongside Stoudemire and Anthony, rather than defer to them, he’ll likely continue to be effective. Expect the Knicks to lock Lin up for at least four years.

Prediction: Jeremy Lin signs for four years, $30 million

Resigning The Supporting Cast

Filling out the roster will once again take some clever maneuvering. The first issue is whether J.R. Smith will pick up his option. The enigmatic sixth man had a rough playoff run that turned some fans against him. However, Smith is from Newark, N.J., and has always had a love for New York.

"Without a doubt, hands down, I wouldn’t want to play anywhere else," Smith said on Trash-Bag Day Thursday. "It’s the greatest place to play. It’s the greatest city in the world. This is my ultimate home."

Should he return, and it certainly sounds like he will, the Knicks will be getting a talented role player at a steal of a price.

Next up is Steve Novak, who became the discount double-check demon of the arc this season. Novak led the league in three-point percentage, and the Knicks would love to have him back. But it won’t be easy to match the money he could make elsewhere. Popular thought is that any offer for more than $3 million a year could convince him to leave, meaning it may take a discount to get the double-check man back in Gotham. 

Landry Fields also presents a complicated situation. The Knicks hold his Bird rights, but still have to worry about exceeding the luxury tax threshold should Lin and Smith return.* That means New York would only be able to offer and match a contract up to $3 million. Prior to the playoffs, Fields looked primed to earn much more than that, but a lackluster postseason hurt his market value. Look for him to accept the Knicks’ qualifying offer and provide much-needed depth at shooting guard.

The last player the Knicks will look to resign is Jared Jeffries. Already locked into a clear role and with limited demand for his services, Jeffries to return should be back and earning the veteran’s minimum.

*There is still some debate between the league and the players union over Bird rights, which allow players to resign with their team without worrying about the salary cap. Depending on how this plays out, the Knicks could conceivably keep Lin and Novak and still have the mid-level exception available. If New York stays under the $74 million luxury tax threshold, that exception would be worth $5.0 million. But if they were to sign Fields and Smith, they would be over the threshold and the exception would fall to $3.0 million. It's a complicated debate with major implications for the Knicks' decisions on who to keep.

What to do in the NBA Draft?

The Houston Rockets own the Knicks’ first round pick this year, thanks to the ill-fated 2009 trade for Tracy McGrady. But this is a deep draft, and their second-round pick might still yield some talent.

As the offseason unfolds, the Knicks’ needs will become apparent. If JR Smith leaves, New York will look to add a shooting guard. Memphis’ Will Barton, IUPUI’s Alex Young or Fairfield’s Rakim Sanders could fill that role.

Should he return, the focus then becomes finding a small forward to spell Carmelo Anthony. The dream is that Syracuse’s Kris Joseph falls to the 48th slot. He would give Carmelo the spurts of rest he needs, as well as help push him up to power forward when Stoudemire needs a break. Pull that off, and the Knicks would gain a good measure of toughness and offensive creativity. 

Don’t rule out New York purchasing another second round pick, too. They did it to acquire Josh Harrelson and Jerome Jordan, and it would help add some depth.

Prediction: Knicks draft small forward Kris Joseph at 48 and buy an additional second round pick so they can draft point guard Malik Wayns 

Trades, free agency and development

Let’s get this out of the way first. There is no chance that the Knicks part with Stoudemire. He has an uninsurable contract that looks worse by the day thanks to a balky back, teetering knees and an eye injury, and New York has already used up its amnesty clause. 

Toney Douglas, on the other hand, is very likely to be traded. Douglas’ value fell precipitously this year, partly because of a shoulder injury that helped bury him on the depth chart. Look for him to be dealt for a role player or a second-round pick. 

Coach Mike Woodson has always preferred veterans over younger players, so the Knicks will likely try to find an experienced point guard to back up Lin. The likes of Kirk Hinrich, Johnny Flynn, A.J. Price or Gary Neal could fill that role, with Hinrich getting the advantage due to a past history with Woodson. Others to consider are Raymond Felton and Andre Miller, depending on the kinds of offers they command from others. 

As far as the back end of the bench, Bill Walker could join the Knicks for the league minimum. The team might also try to beef up down low by adding Marcus Camby, Aaron Gray or Jamaal MaGloire. Power forwards Kenyon Martin, Reggie Evans and Troy Murphy could also be good fits.

Prediction: Toney Douglas is traded, Kirk Hinrich, Marcus Camby and Bill Walker are signed

Final Projected Roster

PG: Jeremy Lin, Kirk Hinrich and Malik Wayns

SG: Landry Fields, JR Smith and Iman Shumpert (upon returning from injury)

SF: Carmelo Anthony, Kris Joseph and Bill Walker

PF: Amar’e Stoudemire, Jared Jeffries and Josh Harrelson

C: Tyson Chandler, Marcus Camby and Jerome Jordan

The roster would be balanced, affordable and have plenty of talent on paper. It will still take some ingenuity from Woodson to make those pieces fit, but the potential is there. While leadership, injuries and fights over playing time always loom large over the Knicks, as long as Anthony and Stoudemire can co-exist, the team should be ready to battle for a top four seed. 

James Epstein is a contributor to Began in '96.

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via El Tecolote

By Adam Cancryn

Remembering Baron Davis, and that one magical spring of freshman year.

Baron Davis came into our lives in the spring of 2007.

At the time, we were college freshmen, and more importantly, newly inducted fraternity members. Life was good. We had successfully endured eight weeks of pledgeship and come out the other side with a new group of friends and suddenly more free time than we knew what to do with.

But life was also a bit strange. After all, we had just spent eight weeks focused solely on pledgeship and schoolwork, and it was because of that daily slog that we had bonded with our new group of friends. Now, that crutch was gone. Would we remain as close? Without all of our mandated responsibilities, what would we do together?

The answer for many of us was to hang out in the basement of our new fraternity house, getting to know each other again the best way guys know how: over sports and cheap beer. We would sit and joke and watch TV, all the while trying to confirm that yes, this is where we were meant to be.

That spring, the basketball world belonged to the Golden State Warriors. An assortment of loud personalities and flashy skills loosely supervised by coach/mad scientist Don Nelson, the Warriors barnstormed through the Western Conference. They shunned the plodding, cerebral style popularized by the Spurs and Pistons. There were few set plays, and holding the ball more than 10 seconds without a shot qualified as a lengthy possession. Whomever got the first open look got to take that look. Golden State led the league in field goal attempts and three-point attempts, and finished second in points per game. Seven players that year averaged double-digits in points.

The Warriors' style was so disruptive, so anti-establishment, that it worked more often than not. And along the way, it never failed to entertain the group of guys sitting in the frat house basement, sipping Natty Lights and watching basketball on weeknights.

At the center of the team was Baron Davis. A 6'3" brick of a human being, he led the Warriors with a defiant swagger and a beard fit for a king. He looked like a Spartan out of the recently released 300, and played like one too, and soon we'd adopted him. He was no longer Baron Davis. Around the basement, he was BD, or more aptly, Beard.

By the time Beard and his band of shoot-first misfits took on the top-seeded Mavericks in the first round, we were fully invested. The Warriors were heavy underdogs going up against the best team in the league, and yet they won the first game. Then five days later, while we snuck in and out of a fraternity-sorority mixer to peek at the game, they cruised to another win. And then another. The Warriors took Dallas down in six games, to the delight of the biggest Golden State fans in Virginia. For us, the Warriors had become appointment viewing.

Then in the next series, it happened. Already down two games to none to the Utah Jazz, Beard drove the lane, only to encounter 6'9" shot-blocker Andrei Kirilenko. The smart move was to dump the ball off or pull up for a jumper. But that wasn't the Warrior way. To this day, I can't remember who was watching with me. My friend Mike was there, I think. And surely there were others. But when Baron Davis — BD, Beard — launched into Kirilenko and windmilled a vicious dunk over him, that room in the basement of the fraternity house exploded. It was a devastating blow, punctuated by Davis' What now? celebration.

In the basement, we sputtered and shrieked and made our best bitter beer faces.

The Warriors would eventually succumb to the fundamentally sound Jazz in five games, but few remember that. It was Beard's dunk that endured.

Our friendships endured too. I can't tell you when we all became true friends; it could've happened before that dunk or sometime after. Most likely, it happend at different times for all of us. But five years later, I know exactly how everyone would react to the name Baron Davis. Mike chuckles softly, still in disbelief over that season. Parker goes wide-eyed, replaying all of the team's absurdities in his head. Brian responds with a knowing smile and sublime, "Dude."

The Warriors' magic would evaporate soon after that season, and a string of injuries robbed Baron Davis of much of what made him the revered Beard. On the Madison Square Garden parquet Sunday, going full speed as always, his knee gave out and he crumpled, in what was likely the last play of an up-and-down career.

But for one season, Davis was magical. He was a leader. He was the Beard. And he was just what one group of new friends needed.

Adam Cancryn is an editor and co-founder of Began in '96.

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