Opening night of the season, Rick Mahorn approached Keith Askins, who was scouting a game for the Miami Heat. Askins, dressed in a sweater and slacks, smiled. Mahorn said of Askins' absence of a tie and jacket, "I'm gonna tell Pat this is how you come to the game." Askins, whose appearance was fine, bought the joke ... a long moment later.

	Mourning isn't the same player as yesteryear, but his stats are fine.

That's how it is when you work for Pat Riley. You can never be sure that OK is really OK.

For 10 seasons as an Eastern Conference also-ran, Riley has lived a reputation built on the backs of Magic Johnson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. He has gotten back to one Final with the Knicks, but he has been bounced in the first round four times in six years since moving to Miami.

His titles, four of them, cannot be diminished, but they were all achieved because the Los Angeles Lakers employed two of the greatest players in the history of the game. All of the Lakers, in fact, were acquired by Jerry West.

Left to his own devices since bolting the Knicks, Riley has had absolute power in Miami. He has made the trades, signed the free agents and coached them. In horse racing this is akin to being the breeder, owner, trainer and jockey.

Only Riley hasn't won the roses lately, and it is apparent that he will not sniff them ever again. At the age of 56, he has burned out the Heat's present and has mortgaged the future. His team might make the playoffs as a lower seed this season. And then again it might not. But this Miami team, like those that preceded it, isn't going anywhere important.

Given the opportunity over the summer to re-invent the Heat with some youth and fire, Riley surrounded five incumbent players with a group of veterans whose career highlights are visible in the rear-view mirror. LaPhonso Ellis, 31, Sam Mack, 31, Kendall Gill, 33, Chris Gatling, 34, Rod Strickland, 35. Those are the names that replace Tim Hardaway, Anthony Mason, Dan Majerle and Bruce Bowen.

	Jones

	Grant

The only gains here are an escape from the luxury tax for owner Micky Arison, who understandably mandated a reduction in the payroll, now down to $52.9 million.

What's left is a team that is remarkably unathletic. Cleveland marched into town and whipped the Heat. One night later, Atlanta could not fail, no matter how badly it played.

"It's very difficult to lose All-Star players like Tim Hardaway and Anthony Mason and not feel the effects," Hawks forward Shareef Abdur-Rahim said. "Hardaway would do so much for them, hitting shots late in games."

Riley has tied up almost $39 million in salaries for three players: Alonzo Mourning, who makes $18 million, and Eddie Jones and Brian Grant, who get more than $10 million each. Next season, Mourning grows to $20 million, Jones and Grant to $11 million each. There is not enough flexibility under the luxury ceiling at $53 million to $54 million to add real talent.

Worse, Grant is proving to be a pretty good player, nothing more than that. And Jones, who would make a terrific third banana on a team that can run, is hamstrung by the Heat's slowdown game.

Said one Eastern scout: "The better pieces don't fit and nothing is really that good there. They don't scare you."

There is a tragic note here and it is Mourning, whose indomitable will and spirit push a body that is weakened by kidney disease and the treatment for it. His appearance is peaked. A half-dozen times in Atlanta on Saturday, Mourning could not run up the floor on offense. He walked, a few times stopping short of midcourt and turning back on defense.

Riley predicted his center would be fine if he could manage his minutes. Mourning played 31 minutes in Friday's loss to Cleveland, 35 against the Hawks. He had nice numbers in the Atlanta game -- 23 points, 12 rebounds, four blocks. But they did not influence the outcome of the game, and Nazr Mohammed got the best of him down the stretch.

There is the very real chance that we are witnessing the conclusion of Riley's coaching career. Arison says he will coach out the final four years of his contract. Riley says he is taking it year by year.

But he wounded himself with his treatment of assistant coach Jeff Bzdelik, who was denied an opportunity to interview for a job as a top assistant with another team late last spring, then was called in by Riley and fired in September, when it was too late for him to find a new job. Sharp, ambitious young men will remember that.

Riley also has taken shots from departed players Hardaway, Mason and Ricky Davis.

It was Davis' denunciation last week that is particularly wounding because it is so revealing.

"There's no freedom," Davis said after being dealt to Cleveland. "You don't get a chance to play. I was relieved to leave. Most of the young guys are offensive-orientated, and you don't get a chance to show that in Miami. It's not a place for young fellows.

"Riley likes guys who aren't making mistakes like a young guy would. But who says the old guys wouldn't make mistakes? He's a great coach, but not a young player's coach. He never gives the young guys life."

Riley vowed in September that he would change, that he would loosen the reins for this team.

Davis acknowledged, "I saw a few changes, but you can't keep bad habits away, like working guys too hard, not letting you be yourself. It's back to the same old, same old. There's such a thing as constructive criticism ..."

So you ask, who is Ricky Davis? What kind of standing does he have? Well, he's the guy who fingered Pat Riley.

Jeffrey Denberg, who covers the NBA for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.