What's a Knick?
According to the Bulls, it's a thug who has to goon it up because he can't play basketball. Coach Pat Riley knows it's true, too, because he used to complain about all the things he now does.
What's a Knick?
According to the Bulls, it's a thug who has to goon it up because he can't play basketball. Coach Pat Riley knows it's true, too, because he used to complain about all the things he now does.
What's a Bull?
According to the Knicks, it's a sissy who has to go crying to the newspapers and the referees because he can't play a man's game. Coach Phil Jackson knows it's true, too, because he used to do all the things he now complains about.
Whatever happened to the days when everyone pledged eternal mutual respect for their most hated foes, at least until reporters left the dressing room? They are over for the moment, at least for the Chicago Bulls and New York Knicks, rivals with such a profound distaste for one another they can't wait to tell the world about it.
"I don't think they like us," said Knick guard Doc Rivers, heretofore known as the NBA's reigning nice guy, before their mid-February meeting.
"I'm not expecting any Christmas cards or Valentine cards from any of those guys and they won't get any from me. It's just
a rivalry. After the game I'll say 'Hi' to Scottie (Pippen) and Michael (Jordan), and we're friends. During the game, we're enemies--and that's nice. That's what competition should be."
What happened, in fact, was that Jordan wasn't even there, suspended for throwing a punch the game before. The Bulls staged a brave fight, but succumbed to the Knicks--who flew home laughing.
Even if it wasn't the real team without Jordan?
"To be brief," Charles Smith said, "I couldn't care less."
Nobody, not even the Lakers and Celtics, whose rivalry defined the NBA, ever talked as much trash as these guys.
The Celtics and Lakers hated each other as institutions, but lived
for their games. The annual Celtic visit to the Forum was almost a Laker holiday; Michael and Wanda Cooper had an annual team party afterward. The more they played, the deeper grew their respect for each other. Magic Johnson called Dennis Johnson the best defender he had ever seen and all but became blood brothers with Larry Bird, who in turn called Magic the best player he had ever seen. In time, Bird would do commercials with Magic, Cooper and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.
So far with the Knicks and Bulls, contact breeds only contempt.
As soon as Riley has finished lauding Michael Jordan as the best player on the planet, and Jackson gives Patrick Ewing his due, they get down to real cases.
The Bulls see Anthony Mason's crazed look and hear John Starks' mouth.
The Knicks see Jordan, Jackson and Pippen, noses in the air, refusing even to acknowledge a rivalry.
"The rivalry?" says Rivers, a man of relative peace in this context, a Chicago native who has been a Knick only since October.
"It surprised me how quick it came about. Last year, going into the playoffs, there wasn't a rivalry. Chicago beat New York all the time. Now it is, because the Knicks last year showed Chicago that they can compete. I think that makes rivalries."
THE GUNS OF APRIL
\o7 I'm not going to lobby about it or complain about it. We're just going to play. If you're talking about tripping, holding of jerseys and forearm smashes--those things aren't part of basketball.\f7
--Laker Coach Pat Riley, before the 1988 finals vs. Detroit
\o7 Well, Jackson's talking a lot. Coach Riley is just responding to Phil Jackson (who) thinks we play dirty basketball, \f7 (\o7 that\f7 )\o7 we push and we shove. . . It's like the kettle calling the pot black. I DID watch Phil Jackson play. \f7 --Doc Rivers
Did it start when Riley's overachievers tried to beat the Bulls up last season?
Or when the Knicks were playing the Pistons in the first round of the playoffs and, in a little-noticed breach of etiquette, Jackson said: "I expect to play Detroit."?
Riley noticed.
Ever on the lookout for ways to psych up his players, Riley was about to enter motivational paradise.
"I think one of the great things that happened to us," he would say later, "I don't think Chicago respected us at all. \o7 At all!\f7
"They were so damn surprised in the first game that we got their attention."
Not that anyone else gave the Knicks a chance.
The Bulls were defending champions who had gone 67-15 and swept Miami in the first round.
The Knicks were the same suspects who had been reviled by their own fans for years and reshaped into contenders by Riley before collapsing down the stretch, blowing a five-game lead with eight to play and tumbling into second place. They earned the right to meet the Bulls in a series against Detroit that looked more like mud-wrestling and was known to critics by various names, one being "the Death of Basketball."
If the Knicks enjoyed a matchup edge, it went unnoticed in the regular-season's four games, which the Bulls swept.
The Bulls weren't above letting the Knicks know about it, too, as during the last meeting, when Jordan made a game-ending free throw with his eyes closed.
To everyone's surprise, the Knicks stunned the Bulls in Game 1 of their series in Chicago, 94-89.