Today is my last day at the New York Knicks. After almost three and a half years coaching this mystifying basketball team – first with an apathetic Stephon Marbury and bunch of random guys they found wandering around the men's department in Macy's; then with the third-leading scorer in Denver Nuggets history – I believe I have worked here long enough to understand the trajectory of its culture, its players and why nearly every coach has run screaming from this arena, ripping out chunks of his remaining hair. And I can honestly say the environment is as simultaneously bizarre and hilarious as I have ever seen it. And if you don't believe that, you should have seen last Friday's Bucks game. Yowza.
It might sound surprising to a skeptical Knicks fan, but just a few weeks ago, this was a phenomenal, dignified place to work. We had a culture that revolved around teamwork, integrity and passing the ball at least three times before blindly heaving from 40 feet. (The secret sauce? The secret sauce was Stevie Novak sinking 15.) Knicks basketball wasn't just about padding stats; awesome stats will not sustain a team very long. Just ask George Gervin. It had something to do with pride and belief and organization. Okay, it also had something to do with random magic from a Havard-educated point guard who was playing for the Erie BayHawks in January. That was nuts. I was just as surprised as you.
But when a certain superstar someone came back to our roster, this was no longer the case. I know, I know, I know: the schedule got tougher. The Heat, the Mavericks, the Spurs and Bulls are not the Raptors, Bobcats and Wizards. But still: My system changed. We slowed down. We passed less. We started getting too comfortable with losing. Our body language was bad. By the second half, we looked like ninth graders being forced to watch a foreign film. Our Erie BayHawks point guard didn't look so magical anymore. We had no discipline, no clear leader, and J.R. Smith began shooting from west of Hoboken. Of course, you know all this because Time Warner came to terms with MSG just before our epic meltdown. Sorry. You can always go back to watching E!
It made me ill to hear the chatter in some of our pre-game meetings. A couple weeks ago, I heard the New Jersey Nets referred to as "muppets." Then Deron Williams scored 38 and the Nets blew us out at home. Wish I had a muppet like that. I'd trade nine guys for that muppet.
How did we get here? Beats me. I tried everything. But at a certain point the most common question I got from players was, "Any chance I can be dealt to the Orlando Magic? Or at least Golden State? Oh, and do we really have to have practice tomorrow?" It bothered me every time I heard this. I knew it was time to leave when I realized I could no longer look players in the eye and tell them we would definitely beat out the Cleveland Cavaliers for the last playoff seed. Or when I began sobbing uncontrollably before shootarounds.
My proudest moments in life – that seven-game "Linsanity" winning streak; two MVPs for Steve Nash in Phoenix; my splendid mustache -- have all come through hard work. But the Knicks have become too much about shortcuts and not enough about achievement. This doesn't feel right to me. We're not a globally-influential investment bank.
Yes, look, I am sorry that I am upstaging the Goldman Sachs guy who resigned early on Wednesday and published a farewell letter in the New York Times. I know he probably woke up feeling he was going to dominate the most-emailed list, only to get upstaged by me. What can I say? This is New York, pal. Go cry to Phil Jackson. He's about to get offered a ton of money. Manage that with integrity, pal.
