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| Friday, May 19 | |||||
Special to ESPN.com | ||||||
Larry Lifer is a teacher and a yenta. If he can make you see things a little better he's had a good day. If he can steal something from somebody else and help you he's had a great day. It's his ethnic Long Island upbringing. It doesn't take a village with Larry Life. It takes an entire schul. Larry Legend grew up not knowing a pastrami sandwich from a bagel. The Hick from French Lick only knew he wanted to play basketball and unlike Larry Lifer, who played in five pro cities in five years and is on his ninth coaching stop -- two college, seven pro -- Larry Legend is a nester. Boston was his only home as a player, Indiana apparently his only stop as a coach. Three sparkling years and out. Consider this. Larry Lifer probably sits at the dinner table and diagrams plays -- sugar rubs off the pepper, salt shaker makes a back cut, water glass takes his man to the wing to eliminate double team help. Larry Legend spent much of his career under minimalist coach K.C. Jones, whose strategy centered on single word commands. "Kevin. Larry. Robert. D.J." That's what it took to get the Celtics going. Today's coaching takes up to much of the Legend's time. He got in it to try it and he made his millions. But he's smart enough to know that life holds other fascinations. Watching this series, you get a sense that Brown knows what the Pacers will do before they do. And why not? Remember, he taught them. And Bird, with his quizzical expression, you get the feeling he knows what the Pacers will do after Rick Carlisle tells him. And that's okay, too. One scowl from Bird, one verbal needle, they know what he wants. Jeff Van Schlep vs. Patrick Armani Van Gundy is a schlep compared to his old boss -- thinning hair askew, wrinkled shirt tail half out of his pants, grimacing, wildly gesturing, cajoling. And inside there is a terrific coach and such a witty man he could do stand up. On the other side of the 10-second line there is Riley, long hair greased over craggy features that suggest a lifetime on the continent. Riley claims that as he reached his 55th birthday he noticed he had become an easier guy. And we know this is true because we see that he often wears a dark Armani blazer instead of a dark Armani suit. Riley betrays his lack of sensitivity when he says the Gestapo should force Miamians to root for the Heat, shows his tunnel vision when he reacts badly because a few players walked around Manhattan instead of staying holed up in their hotel rooms to focus on games, plays mind games even with Mourning by questioning his effort. Van Gundy shows his assistant coach's roots, his New York state of mind by trying to make nice. Imagine Riley stubbornly defending Patrick Ewing even as the old warriors' skills fade. In simplest terms: Brown and Bird: For one it's a way of life; for the other it's been there, done that. Van Gundy and Riley: For one it's a chess match; for the other it's war. Jeffrey Denberg, who covers the NBA for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, is a regular contributor to ESPN.com. | ALSO SEE New York vs. Miami Philadelphia vs. Indiana |