In case of ire, break glass.
Summing up L’affaire Apostroph’e, suffice to say Amar’e Stoudemire was feeling fairly discouraged when he debilitated himself by going weak-minded to the window pane.
And, should the Knicks find a team who won’t look under Stoudemire’s hood if they don’t ask for a CARFAX on their looming lemon(s), he’ll be deported.
Come to think of it, his former Frat House offered him three seasons. Why not the final three seasons of his contract in Phoenix? Owner Robert Sarver might jump at the chance to unload amnesty objective Josh Childress and, to a lesser degree, Channing Frye, owed roughly $42 million over the next three seasons, as opposed to Stoudemire’s $65 million.
Too bad Rashard Lewis didn’t have more than one year ($26.69 million; a mere $10 million guaranteed) left on his Wizards contract. Andray Blatche would find out he didn’t have all that much to learn after all.
Just so you understand where I stand, not for a second do I buy Stoudemire’s spin that his froth was triggered by the Knicks’ 3-0 deficit.
You don’t lose complete control because a superior team dominates yours.
You snap and pop an unflinching fire extinguisher wall container because you’ve been devalued and disrespected since Carmelo Anthony arrived in New York.
You lose it because, pre-Melo, you were hailed by Madison Square Garden chants as “MVP … MVP” and now you’re an offensive afterthought.
You strike out crazily because Anthony automatically received top billing on the marquee and on the ballroom, where he has the freedom to gun it on red, in traffic, whereas your participation is no longer rhythmic or with any regularity …
… By design and decline.
It has reached the point where opponents not only stopped doubling Stoudemire, they started cheating off him. Why go out and guard when he so seldom sniffs leather and, even when he does, his jumper is jammed? All they need to do is meet him at the rim where finishing with a flush has resulted in failure or a trip to the foul line.
No wonder Stoudemire came unhinged. He went from pack leader to a Nowhere Man in a Nowhere Land, a non-entity at macho forward trying to stay out of the way of Anthony and Tyson Chandler, and a fill-in at center when the NBA’s newly crowned defensive player of the year needs a blow.
Stoudemire is frustrated twice over, it says here. Frustrated he has become a role player. Frustrated he has lost the exclamation on his elevation.
Most players are in their prime at 29. Stoudemire is looking in the hour glass and at his medical chart and realizes he peaked years ago. His point average in the last six postseasons: 29, 25, 23, 22, 14 and 13 in two games against the Heat.
Stoudemire’s back is damaged, his legs are wobbly and his ego is hurting. Not so suddenly, he is the player making adjustments, because Melo isn’t about to, and Mike Woodson won’t demand it.
Before sentencing himself to casual attire with his left arm mummified from fingers to armpit, he wasn’t even riding shotgun like he used to do alongside Steve Nash. Amar’e had taken a back seat to Anthony.
For four months last season, Stoudemire’s supernatural scoring elicited sonnets. Cherishing the challenge with conviction and celebrating the consequences with humility, he was the closest essence to a savior the Knicks had since Patrick Ewing.
Then Anthony was imported. And New York’s sophisticated media and fans stamped him an accredited superstar. No longer the franchise player, Amar’e is expected to box out, defend, rotate and help, pass and go away, and hold picks, things never required of him before, things he’s incapable of effectively doing on any kind of consistent basis.
Stoudemire is not at his best as an outpatient understudy. And Anthony is not a true superstar. He is a volume scorer (21-for-64 FGs in three games) like Glen Rice and Alex English. Does he look unstoppable at times like Bernard King, make you shake your head in awe?
Yes. But the game is played for 48 minutes and it’s played on two ends of the tarmac. Anthony only occasionally sprints back on defense (check it out), but tends to get back awfully fast on offense if the Knicks have numbers.
Column conscience Ricky St. Jean counted numerous times “Melo barely got over halfcourt, mostly to the 3-point line, where he does an abrupt about-face and heads back down to do what he does … SHOOT.”
This is playoff time! Melo has six assists and a dozen turnovers following Thursday night’s 87-70 loss.
A real superstar makes everybody around him better. Go down the list of champions (we all know their names) who qualify in that regard. Can you honestly say Anthony makes teammates better for more than one game in a row?
Watch him for a full game. Sure, Anthony will get down in a defensive stance at first, but watch what happens when there’s adversity. He’s not a true leader. He doesn’t bring the team together and make players accountable on defense. How can he?
I can tell you the exact time the Knicks quit in Game 2. Shane Battier hit a three with 2:50 left, the score 97-83. They all just looked at each other like “Bleep it! We’ll get ’em in New York.” Next play down, LeBron James threw a halfcourt pass right by all of them to Dwyane Wade for a layup.
I can tell you the exact time the Knicks quit in Game 3, at the 6:31 mark of the last stanza, Miami up 71-62. Baron Davis incoherently answered by jerking up a 3-pointer. Mario Chalmers followed with a trey bien.
Adversity? Dig down and defend? Superstar? I don’t think so but hey, Anthony got his 30.
I suspect the Nuggets prefer to be 0-2 without Anthony.
I sense, somewhere, Mike D’Antoni is smiling.