For years he was the cornerstone of a franchise that just couldn't quite get over the hump. He was always stuck behind Michael Jordan and the Bulls' dynasty of the '90s or mired in an abyss of early playoff disappointments that characterized the '80s for his team. Now that New York Knick management has finally put a team around him that perfectly complements his game, with the sharpshooter Allan Houston and the whirling-dervish Latrell Sprewell, Patrick Ewing is no longer a New York Knick. That image seems hard to comprehend to anyone who has seen him sweat orange and blue for so many years in New York. It's a bitter pill to swallow for Ewing, knowing that his Garden nightmare has finally come true. And I'm doubtful that Seattle will offer much refuge to a man who simply wasn't wanted in New York anymore.
The New York headlines read "Good Riddance" just a month ago when Ewing was reportedly traded to Seattle. That trade subsequently fell through, and Knick management has run damage control ever since. But it was clear that Ewing's 15-year love affair with the Knicks was over.
It began two seasons ago when Ewing made some basically stupid remarks about the NBA Players' Association during the lockout, saying that players needed more money because they spend a lot in addition to making a lot. He then spoke out vociferously against Garden fans who booed him during a game against the L.A. Clippers in 1999.
The shame is that Ewing really could have owned this town; New York really could have been his. Unfortunately, his personality was never quite where it needed to be. At times he was aloof; at others, he was reticent. He never went out of his way to foster a nurturing, friendly rapport with the New York media or with the fans. Not only that, but his failed promises of victory in numerous playoff game sevens didn't exactly help his credibility. His best chance for a championship was in 1994 during Michael Jordan's initial retirement, but John Starks' two-for-18 showing in game seven against the Houston Rockets squelched Ewing's promises.
Ewing was never afraid to take the final big shot, but he will be remembered most for all the misses at the ends of games, rather than for the clutch shots he made. Several moments come to mind, such as a missed fingerroll attempt in the waning seconds of game seven of the 1995 semifinals against Indiana. And then last season, in his final game as a Knick, Ewing missed four key shots in the fourth quarter of game six against the Indiana Pacers.
Ewing will go down in history as arguably the best jump-shooting center in the history of the NBA, which is surprising since he was known as a one-man defensive wrecking machine in college at Georgetown. His offensive game flourished in the pros, but he never regained the defensive dominance of his Hoya days.
Ewing's jersey will one day be raised to the rafters of Madison Square Garden. He has more points, rebounds, blocked shots and games played than anyone else in Knicks history. He would've been a god in New York if he had won a championship. Instead, all he has to show for it is 15 years of heartache, suffering and little adoration from the New York fans, many of whomhave deserted him since he was actually traded for Glen Rice.
No one played harder than Ewing. No one wanted a championship more. No one came back from injuries more often and played hurt more than Ewing. As much as he would have loved to have been loved in New York, and to have been a leader on a Knicks team in search of one, that wasn't his personality, and he shouldn't be punished for that. He is the least appreciated sports superstar in New York in the past 50 years. He didn't bring home a ring in 15 seasons in New York, and that's all that matters in the Big Apple.
It's a sad day in New York. Ewing was here today, gone tomorrow. That's the business of sports. But if Patrick Ewing can be traded in New York, anyone is fair game.
