HoopsHype.com NBA Blogs - Roland Lazenby

Phoenix Suns fans these days are just starting to understand how Michael Jordan felt.

Jordan, you may recall, punched Steve Kerr in the face in a 1995 Chicago Bulls practice.

Kerr, as I remember, had the audacity to stand up to Jordan during one of those scrimmages where His Airness was heaping abuse on teammates.

Kerr is the GM of the Suns these days, and it seems he’s up to his old tricks.

And this is where things get dicey. If you loved the old Suns regime led by the mad scientist of basketball, Mike D’Antoni, then you probably want a shot at Kerr yourself.

On the other hand, if you’re less of a dreamer and you subscribe to what, 75 years of basketball precedent and history? If you do that, then you’re probably inclined to agree with Kerr that if the goal in the NBA is to win a championship, then the Suns probably needed to change to a philosophy that actually has a chance of producing that outcome.

The circumstances make for a fascinating debate and one very ugly transition.

That transition, of course, began in the middle of last season when Kerr traded the Matrix, Shawn Marion, an open-court machine of a forward, to the Miami Heat for Shaquille O’Neal.

At the time, I equated the move to owning a garage filled with sleek Ferraris and suddenly adding to it a lumbering Mack Diesel belching black smoke.

That’s exactly what the situation has proved to be.

After last season, D’Antoni departed Phoenix for a job with the New York Knicks, where he has resumed his mad, fun experiment. And I must admit that I love watching his Knicks play these days (I always love the rebirth of a dead franchise), just as I loved watching those Suns of the past few seasons running up and down the floor, jacking up shots, sharing the ball, scoring lots of points and even giving an occasional nod to defense.

By the way, I also loved Pete Maravich’s performances with the old Atlanta Hawks. I remember my shock at interviewing Richie Guerin, the tough old pro who coached those Hawks, and hearing him say that he was nauseated by the Pistol’s approach to the game.

So this is hardly a new argument. The concept of basketball as entertainment began to take root back in the 1930s and ’40s with the Harlem Globetrotters and other barnstormers. They started out playing the game straight but soon found they could make much more money and gain much more attention if they focused on entertainment and the gags.

Red Auerbach of the Boston Celtics took an early stand on this issue. Yes, he finally agreed to take the fancy dan passer Bob Cousy as his point guard, but Red didn’t stop till he got the no-nonsense Bill Russell as his post player.

Those old Celtics teams won lots of championships, and even though the game changed, Red didn’t allow dancers or silly marketing games in his Garden.

For Red and the long line of great competitors of the sport, it’s all about the winning of championships. Nothing else matters. Let me repeat that. Nothing else matters.

I love being entertained by the Knicks and those Suns of D’Antoni’s. Do I care if they win championships? Not a lick. I’m not a serious fan of either team.

D’Antoni’s point, of course, is that he can win a championship playing with an up-tempo, quick-shooting style. He’s swimming upstream against years of evidence to the contrary, but I’m entertained at watching him try.

Kerr, on the other hand, has a different experience with the game. He’s played for two great coaches — Phil Jackson and Gregg Popovich— who built multiple championships around great post players. Jordan is the game’s greatest weapon, and Tim Duncan and O’Neal aren’t far behind.

Kerr saw a chance to get O’Neal and figured that with the right approach there was still a championship or two with the Diesel. Last year he struggled, but this year O’Neal is showing signs of rounding into form (at least that’s what longtime Shaq critic Tex Winter thinks. Even so, it’s not so much about building around Shaq per se as it is building an organization that relies on a sound system of basketball).

Kerr, meanwhile, has been busy disassembling the old team and building something that has a chance to win. I know this. I’ve spent some time over the years discussing basketball philosophy with Kerr and he knows what he’s doing.

I also understand that Steve Nash is decidedly unhappy with the circumstances. He’s had a lot of fun and earned a lot of recognition playing a key role in the D’Antoni experiment. But understand this: Until somebody actually wins a championship playing that madcap way, that’s all it is: a fun experiment.

The guy I feel sorry for is new Suns coach Terry Porter. He’s a solid basketball guy who’s stuck in the driver’s seat during a head-spinning transition. And most real transitions are like this. Very, very ugly until all at once they turn pretty. The longer they take, the uglier they are.

With the NBA’s complicated personnel rules and salary-cap system, transitions are oh so slow and tedious, not to mention dangerous. Taking a stand in the NBA can cost you your job in a blink. That’s why most GMs don’t want to take a real big stance. They want to go with the flow and cash those big checks until the vibe runs out.

Kerr’s far from perfect, but he’s got way too much integrity to sell out like that. He’s gonna try to do the right thing, no matter what.

The thing that may seem curious to most fans is that they remember the old Steve Kerr, the son of the career diplomat, the darling of University of Arizona basketball, the fan favorite in both Chicago and San Antonio, the guy who hit that winning shot for Bulls title no. 5, the guy who made those big shots for the Spurs.

What I recall most about Kerr is what a great voice of reason he was for the Bulls back in 1998 when the team was being ripped apart by a battle between Jackson and Jordan on one side and team management on the other. In those days, Kerr was the guy with the thoughtful, clear approach, the smooth communication.

Why doesn’t he play that card more today and talk more to the fans in Phoenix?

The answer there is pretty clear too. Kerr has never been one to engage in shouting matches or heated conflict, although he’s not afraid of taking a stand either (Jordan can attest to that).

No, when it comes to difficult transitions in basketball, it’s most about biting your lip and getting ‘er done. It’s about walking the walk, not talking the talk right now.

I have no doubt that if ownership stays behind him (and of course that depends a sophisticated fan base that loves and cares about winning NBA basketball) then Kerr will see this transition through. And Phoenix will have a shot at winning a title.

Kerr knows that championship moments mean so much more than a little nightly fun. And he’s always been willing to take a punch in the face to prove it.

It’s been 10 years since Jerry Krause, Phil Jackson and Michael Jordan parted company in a hail of spite and anger after winning six championships together with the Chicago Bulls.

It’s unlikely that the three ever posed together for a photograph, even in their sunnier days, but if they had Krause would have been the short dumpy guy looking entirely out of place.

The caption for that photo might have noted that Jordan was the one with the fierce presence and incredible talent and Jackson was the one with the cunning.

And Krause?

Well, he was the one with big enough balls to stand up to both of them.

It’s unlikely that Krause will ever join the other two in the Hall of Fame, but if he does, the display might well be a huge set of cojones.

Jordan, you may recall, was the most intimidating presence in the history of the game, on and off the court. That was his gift and his curse, all rolled into one. It was his gift because he rode that Alpha Male nature to the heights of the sport, scaring everybody in his path along the way. The curse was that his talent transformed those around him into fawning groupies and sycophants. Everywhere Jordan turned, he encountered people eager to tell him what he wanted to hear.

Even Jackson, hugely intimidating in his own right, chose his words carefully and stepped softly around His Airness.

Krause, on the other hand, charged right in like the bull that he was, cocksure in his own view of things.

Krause was the one who just knew the Cinderella Bulls had to have Bill Cartwright to upgrade their center play with smarts and toughness. So he traded away Charles Oakley, Jordan’s dear friend and partner in crime, to get Cartwright. It was just one of several Krause acts that Jordan never forgave.

“We didn’t win until we got Bill Cartwright,” Krause told me in a long conversation a few months back. “People today don’t realize how good Bill Cartwright was.”

Cartwright was the key to the Bulls’ first three championships from 1991-93, Krause said.

“Then the second group of three (1996-98) started when we got Dennis (Rodman). Without Dennis, we wouldn’t have done that.”

Jordan signed off on the Rodman acquisition, but there were plenty of other times Krause didn’t hesitate to run afoul of the team’s star.

Jordan lobbied hard for the drafting of Joe Wolf, a University of North Carolina star. Krause ignored him and drafted Horace Grant, another key in Chicago’s long, strange run of success.

Since the glory of his playing days ended, Jordan has struggled to find success and happiness in the game he virtually owned as a Bull.

Jordan has never phoned Krause, although he did contact him through an intermediary for the pivotal 2001 NBA draft. Jordan was an owner/executive for the Washington Wizards, and Krause was still working for the Bulls. They were both trying to sort out which big men to take among Tyson Chandler, Kwame Brown and Eddy Curry. Jordan made Brown his infamous selection, while Krause scooped up Chandler and Curry for Chicago.

“Michael didn’t try to pick my brain,” Krause said. “Michael didn’t have any respect for anybody’s brain. He did have Rod Higgins do a lot of his talking.”

Since his Bulls tenure ended a few years back, Krause has returned to his original love, scouting baseball.

Although Jordan is in charge of basketball operations for the Charlotte Bobcats these days and he could probably use Krause’s counsel on personnel issues, it’s not likely that the two will ever mend their differences.

And Krause scoffed when asked if he and Jackson would be getting together any time soon for a reunion of those great Bulls teams.

“I haven’t spoken to Phil since the last day he was with us in 1998,” Krause said.

Like Jordan, it would probably behoove Jackson to slice off a huge piece of humble pie and give Krause a call. After all, Jackson is in Los Angeles trying to duplicate the incredible feat they all accomplished together in Chicago – to build a championship team around a 2 guard.

Krause is quite a student of the game and he loves to point out that Chicago holds a distinction among all the great basketball teams.

“We were the only ones to build a championship team around a 2 guard,” he offered, adding that even attempting such a thing is almost silly. “That’s what I’m proudest of. It’s the hardest thing to do, really, really hard to do.”

WINTER

Their differences are enough to make you wonder how Krause and Jackson ever came to work together, but that in itself is the bittersweet heart of this story.

If Krause ever writes an autobiography, he plans to call it “One Million National Anthems.” That’s because he’s knocked around the games of baseball and basketball for years as a scout, taking bad flights, eating bad food, hanging out at practice, always looking for the hidden truth.

Even before that, when he was a student assistant charting plays at Bradley University, Krause caught his first glimpse of Tex Winter, then the coach at Kansas State. Krause was intrigued by the triangle offense and Winter’s intelligence and integrity.

“I liked what Tex did. I thought, ‘Boy, if he ever got good players that offense would be something.’”

Winter moved around in his coaching career as Krause moved into the netherworld of scouting, all the while keeping an eye on Winter and his teams. When Winter took the job at Northwestern, “we became better friends,” Krause said.

Winter recalls that he spent a lot of time with a projector, going over film, showing Krause a lot about the triangle.

“I wanted to learn about it,” Krause said. He also had hopes of becoming an NBA general manager someday and he offered promises that as soon as he did, he would hire Winter.

“I want you with me,” Krause told Winter. “I want you to teach the big people and to coach the coaches.”

“I always said, ‘I’m gonna hire him as an assistant coach, and I’m not gonna worry who the head coach is going to be,” Krause recalled.

In 1985, Krause’s labor came to fruition. He was hired as GM of the Bulls as Jordan was entering his second season. Sure enough, one of the first calls he made was to Winter.

First, Krause hired Stan Albeck as head coach. But Albeck didn’t want to listen to Winter and didn’t want to use the offense.

Krause also wanted him to hire a goofy young assistant named Phil Jackson. Krause had discovered Jackson, a lanky big guy at the University of North Dakota, while scouting small college ball. Krause had quickly come to believe that Jackson had a bright future. But Albeck absolutely refused to hire Jackson, who was viewed as something of an oddball back in the 1980s.

Krause fired Albeck and promoted a bright young coach, Doug Collins.

Krause wanted Collins to hire Jackson, but the new coach was reluctant.

“I went around some things with Doug, but I finally got Phil on his staff,” Krause said.

Once there, Jackson soon began working with Winter and learning from him. But like Albeck, Collins didn’t want to listen to Winter. He even barred Winter from Bulls practices at one point.

Finally, Krause grew fed up, fired Collins and hired Jackson as his head coach.

At last, Krause had the two people he had dreamed of putting in charge. It was the beginning of a coaching partnership that would win nine NBA titles.

“Phil was the first person to understand how good Tex was,” Krause said. “I give Phil a lot of credit. Phil is the best brain picker I have ever known. Phil has picked Tex’s mind for years. I’m a great brain picker myself. I’ve picked Tex’s mind for years. But Phil is by far the best I’ve ever seen because he took a genius and picked his brain. I hired Phil because he was a brilliant defensive coach. When Phil said he wanted to use Tex’s triangle, I said, ‘That’s great.’”

Krause doesn’t take credit for it, but the two would become the core of a great coaching staff, that included Johnny Bach, Jimmy Rodgers, Frank Hamblen and Jimmy Cleamons.

“I do believe the coaching staff we had in Chicago is the best staff in the history of the game,” Krause said. “They were a tremendous complement to Phil.”

For several years, Jackson and his staff proved the perfect match for Jordan, Scottie Pippen and the assemblage of talent. However, Krause’s strong personality wore on Jackson season after season.

Winter grew to become a moderating factor between the two. He said Jackson spent several years bending over backward to please Krause, but by late 1995, Jackson had grown weary of the process and began to rebel.

That rebellion grew into open warfare by 1996. Some accuse Jackson of using Jordan’s and Pippen’s dislike of Krause to motivate the team and drive the Bulls along a bitter road to their last three championships.

Krause soon found himself caught up in the web of Jackson’s mind games and the coach’s ability to use the media to achieve his goals.

“He’s always operated that way,” Krause said of Jackson. “Believe me, he’s stirred the pot with me a number of times. That’s the way he does things. I know the act, believe me.”

Observers watched Krause’s own hubris feed into the end game in Chicago. The team and coaching staff broke apart after the sixth title in 1998. Krause’s vision of Jackson and Winter had been special, then it turned into his nightmare.

Jackson “rode off into the sunset” was how the media termed the parting. Krause says he was disappointed in 1999 when Winter told him he was leaving the Bulls to accept a job working with Jackson and the Lakers.

“I wasn’t happy about it when he left,” Krause said of Winter, one of the elite few whom Krause calls ‘Coach.’ “I told him that. But Coach is still Coach with me. I don’t call many people coach. You gotta earn that with me.”

Now in his late 60s and still living in the Chicago area, Krause offers a matter-of-fact view of the experience and shows some callouses.

“I’ve got tapes of every game that was played in that era,” he says. “I’ve never looked at ‘em.”

Jackson was voted into the Hall of Fame last year, which served to remind Krause of his frustration at not getting the Hall to recognize Winter as an all-time great coach.

Winter is one of the game’s ultimate “geniuses,” he says.

Krause himself was on the selection committee for the Hall several years ago and resigned in protest over the issue.

“I did everything I could do,” Krause said, adding that the politics of selection has made Winter’s recognition as one of the game’s all-time great coaches an impossibility. “It ain’t gonna happen.”

He has grown to accept that reality as he has everything else that came to pass. He says he has moved on to his new life in baseball and is enjoying it immensely.

Don’t expect a warm reunion of one of pro basketball’s great teams, he says.

“It’s past history. It’s done. Phil is a great coach. For a long time, he was very easy to work with. Then he was not so easy. That’s life. Things change. Phil is Phil. I’m proud I hired him.”