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Jackson's new book
sizzles with inside stuff
By BUCKY FOX
of TheColumnists.com
Maury Allen’s column last week on Red Auerbach ("Red Auerbach," Nov. 15) was timed as well as a Bob Cousy pass to Bill Russell.
At the center of the discussion was the Auerbach-John Feinstein book “Let Me Tell You a Story: A Lifetime in the Game.”
It just came out, which puts it up against Phil Jackson’s opus, “The Last Season: A Team in Search of its Soul” (Penguin, $24.95).
Auerbach vs. Jackson. Now that’s a bookend duel.
Both coached teams to nine titles, which ties them for the record in the National Basketball Association.
This isn’t a quiet, respectful balance. Not from Auerbach, anyway. He saw red during Jackson’s ride with the Los Angeles Lakers, whose three straight titles locked him in with the Boston legend.
Red’s bitch? That Jackson had the luck of coaching superstars: Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen with the Chicago Bulls and Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant with L.A.
As if Auerbach had it rough with the Celtics. He only had Russell and Cousy, one of the greatest center-guard tandems in history.
Jackson will let Auerbach whine away. The former Laker coach is coasting these days. No pressure from his ex-team, now a .500 bunch that could miss the playoffs. And his book is No. 1 on the L.A. Times’ best-seller list.
Jackson’s “Last Season” deserves the top spot. His notes on Shaq and especially on Kobe make for as entertaining a read as Feinstein’s “A Season on the Brink” and Jim Bouton’s “Ball Four,” which set the standard for sports books.
Some of Jackson’s good stuff:
On Kobe: “The incident illustrated to me how conditioned I am to find fault with this kid, after everything I’ve gone through with him. I suppose the anger is deeper than I imagined.”
On Dennis Rodman: “The Bulls would never have won their last three rings without Dennis. With his leaping ability and uncanny sense of knowing where the ball would bounce off the rim, he snatched rebounds from taller, bulkier opponents.”
On Laker problems: “Two weeks ago, we had trouble taking our group picture--our group picture!”
On Laker owner Jerry Buss: “I have no real clue as to how Jerry ticks, especially his penchant for hanging out with young girls and dancing till three in the morning.”
Yelling back at Shaq: “I didn’t screw up. You screwed up. I’m supposed to bail you out after you did something like that?”
This book is worth it. Worth the cost and the wait. I stood in line two hours to have Jackson sign it. That’s how packed the L.A. bookstore was, with fans who yearn for the glory days.
“Phil, we miss you,” I told him.
He smiled and said thanks.
He shook my hand, and I had the feeling he would be back fast.
Like next season with the Minnesota Timberwolves.
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Detriot: That should be the new name for Detroit after the recent Palace Putsch in Auburn Hills, Mich.
That’s where the Detroit Pistons call home, and there was serious cookin’ against the Indiana Pacers.
You no doubt saw the rumble’s footage. It starred Indy’s Ron Artest and Stephen Jackson going after fans in the stands.
That was ugly enough. Then came the post-bout commentary. To a man, ESPN’s John Saunders, Greg Anthony, Tim Legler and Stephen Smith and Fox radio’s David Stein ripped … the fans!
Yes, the civilians who shell out to make millionaires of Artest and Jackson are the ogres. According to those TV and radio shills, the fans deserved to get pummeled because one dared to throw a cup of beer at Artest.
I’ve heard commentators kiss player ass, but this smacks of the lowest form of pandering.
News to those trying to protect NBA players: Pros have no business attacking fans in the stands. Ever. Ever. Ever.
You open that door, and the house of cards called pro basketball could crumble.
Which is why the NBA should suspend Artest and Jackson for the rest of the season.
Kudos to Larry Burnett
for recognizing that. While hosting the Laker postgame radio
show in Los Angeles, he called on the NBA to throw the hammer
at the Pacer culprits.
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Throw In The Towel: Hope you saw Nicollette Sheridan in that “Monday Night Football” pregame show.
Decked in a little towel, she sure beats Hank Williams Jr. in his cowboy hat.
Natch, Sheridan’s stunning appearance jarred the old sportswriting set. USA Today’s Rudy Martzke called it a “raunchy stunt.” The New York Post’s Phil Mushnick called it “inappropriate.”
That’s consistent. Martzke and Mushnick see cleavage, and cry the end of society as we know it.
At least they’re only media columnists. Then there’s Michael Powell, head of the Federal Communications Commission. He had time to worry about Sheridan’s naked pounce on Terrell Owens, who by the way did a helluvan acting job.
The paunchy Powell always
looks pathetic popping off about sex on TV. As a comedian said
on ESPN’s “Rome Is Burning,” Colin Powell’s
son would be better served finding his dad a new job.
©2004 by Bucky Fox. The photo, from the cover of Phil Jackson's
new book, is courtesy of Penguin books.
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