NYTimes - JVG's affect on the NBA Coaching Position

It's a Victory for Regular Guys
By SELENA ROBERTS

Published: November 12, 2003


HOUSTON

THE two unlikely cobblers of N.B.A. history paced on opposite ends of the sideline last night, displaying distinctive DNA markers of the Van Gundy basketball dynasty:

A disheveled appearance undisguised by a tie, crop circles under the eyes and an unnatural devotion to Diet Coke.

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Jeff and Stan, unmistakably brothers in a plot line that would read like a tall tale if it weren't true.

"It's amazing," their mentor, Pat Riley, said in a telephone interview yesterday. "They're two members of a family that has provided one of the greatest coaching resources in this country. Stan and Jeff will leave their mark on the game."

Their joint venture began last night at the Rockets' Toyota Center. Stocky with a stubborn wave in his hair, Stan Van Gundy hovered over a Miami Heat team that had been dumped on him by the habitually sleek Riley four days before the season.

Waifish with a backpedaling hairline, Jeff led a talented Rockets team that had been forever guided by the effortlessly strapping Rudy Tomjanovich.

The brotherly intrigue did not cross over to the court, where Yao Ming posed as an obstructionist to the Heat. His career-high seven blocked shots led Houston to a 90-70 victory, a 5-1 record and more misery for Stan's 0-7 Heat.

Somehow, history was not on his mind afterward.

But with the tip, Stan and Jeff became the first brothers to face each other as N.B.A. coaches since Larry Brown met his brother Herb in 1977.

"Larry Brown had quite a résumé," Stan Van Gundy said yesterday. "Jeff and I, well, it's remarkable that if it's only happened twice ever, it would include the two of us. It's remarkable because neither of us has a playing background of real note."

It was Jeff, of all trendsetters, who helped make anonymity fashionable in N.B.A. coaching. It was Jeff, of all trailblazers, who helped make it possible for unknowns like Stan to have a chance. It was Jeff, of all winners, who helped turn N.B.A. owners off expensive celebrity college coaches like Rick Pitino. It was Jeff, of all un-celebrities, who made assistant coaches more attractive to owners who now place coaching talent over marketability.

"I do believe people are getting more intelligent about how they evaluate coaching in this league," said Jeff Van Gundy, not that he would ever credit himself for such a metamorphosis. But for some reason (Jeff, most likely), owners have been choosing their coaches based on smarts, not smitten impulses. While the John Calipari types came, cashed in and fizzled in the 90's, as the Larry Bird legends materialized, won, then vanished, Jeff just kept winning in New York.

Now, former assistants like Byron Scott, Rick Carlisle and Jeff Bzdelik have been finding opportunities in a league enriched by its coaching diversity.

"It's an individual choice of owners, but if they want a coach who will burn the candle at both ends, who will give everything they have, and who will give them their money's worth, Jeff and Stan are those type of guys," said Riley, who remained the Heat's president when he appointed Stan to replace him. "Other teams do it differently, but I think now you see a cross section of coaches in the league. Jeff and Stan are not ex-players and neither is Tim Floyd. Tim Floyd was handed a horrible situation in Chicago, and now, in New Orleans, he may end up winning the division."

Someone in New Orleans had the savvy to see Floyd beyond the surface of his years as the doorman for Chicago's revolving roster of inexperienced rookies and sour veterans.

"I think the good part is, in the N.B.A., there is no scarlet F attached to you when you get fired," Jeff Van Gundy said. "It's like, O.K., now you're one of us."

Still, a first impression is critical for coaches who come with modest résumés. Handed a young team assembled by Riley — whose general managing capabilities sabotaged his coaching genius — Stan will have to rebuild in a hurry to satisfy those waiting to see if he has his brother's touch.

"At this point, Jeff is obviously well established and very well respected," Stan said. "I follow him and want him to do well. But I don't have any anxieties about what's going on here in Houston. I know he'll do well. I certainly haven't proven myself."

He has a chance, though, with an inadvertent assist from a little brother who defied pro coaching convention, image — and etiquette — on his way to proving himself in New York.

Hopelessly undignified, rumpled for a rumble, Jeff Van Gundy was the Knicks coach who grabbed onto Alonzo Mourning's ankle with the zest of a terrier on a postman to protect Larry Johnson during a fight in the 1998 playoffs.

Forever tousled, famously downtrodden, Van Gundy was the Knicks coach whose '95 Honda Civic was turned into a tumbleweed when the team's charter jet inched too close to it during the 2000 playoffs.

Infinitely awkward, clumsy in his timing, Van Gundy was the Knicks coach who required stitches above his eye when he tried to stop Marcus Camby from punching Danny Ferry in 2001.

There is no doubt Van Gundy has reveled in his shtick of ineptitude — all but choreographing his regular-guy routine at times — but the lunch-pail work ethic was genuine.

The results of his effort endeared Jeff to the fans, became the root of his credibility with the players and provided owners with an alternate coaching prototype.

The results of Jeff's success helped make DNA history possible last night.