Years ago, BD — Before Dolan — a famous comedian, blind drunk, was seated courtside at a Knicks game when he mistook a substitution buzz-in for the final buzzer, then staggered onto the court.
Garden security calmly, quickly and discreetly escorted him off. And that was that. No recriminations.
That was the “old” Madison Square Garden, under accessible, candid president Bob Gutkowski, when goodwill and good people made it a good place to spend one’s time and money — come early, stay late, no onerous tack-on fees or must-buy Liberty tickets to buy Rangers tickets.
Lay this Jim Dolan-Charles Oakley thing aside. Oakley, never the most civilized of Knicks — his devotion was such that after a win, he blew off MSG Network’s request for a quickie on-court interview because he didn’t like “the gift” being offered — last week became a martyr to the frustrated, who want to believe without knowing.
But what does come into play is Dolan’s sense of management and ownership, his relentless transmission of signals indicating he’s not smart enough to know he’s not that smart.
The loss of the Garden as a sports citadel, and one that earned the approval of the paying public and message-carrying media, began the day, in 1994, when Dolan, instilled with the enlightenment provided by a family business predicated on the cutthroat, merciless and monopolistic “alternating truths” of cable TV, pulled up.
However, in those early days, the Cablevision/Dolan royal court relied on Marc Lustgarten, a bright, tough but regular guy — a former NYC public school teacher, he knew how to laugh and when — as prime minister. Jim Dolan’s penchant for rule by intimidation, imperious decree and trickle-down paranoia was better hidden.
But in 1999, Lustgarten died, at 52. Jim Dolan was on his own and the Garden and all its parts began to stink of his illogical and excessive sense of self — not to mention his sense of all others, including us, as inferiors. It was, after all, not only his ball and teams, it was his big back yard, a gift from his father.
By 2000, the Garden had become a place in which employees — especially the best ones, including holdovers from previous administrations — considered it a good day when they weren’t fired, humiliated or had avoided the suspicious gaze of Dolan and his seconds.
Examples: I planned to write a nice note about the birth of a child to an MSG employee. He was thrilled. But then he called to beg that I not write it lest Dolan think we have “a relationship,” that he be thought of as “a leak.”
For years, I’d regularly swapped calls — and jokes — with a veteran MSG Network on-air talent whom I’d known, and well, since 1977. Then, while preparing a column on his successes, he suddenly cut off all contact; such attention would only cause Dolan to suspect him of treason. I haven’t spoken with him since.
For 20-plus years, I’d regularly chat with Knicks TV/radio analyst John Andariese, a sweetheart who brought good ink to the Garden. One day, he returned my phone call with awkward word that a third party, an MSG monitor, would have to listen in as we spoke, as per the Garden’s new Soviet-style media edict. We 86-ed this session as too degrading and insulting to indulge.
Then there’s the Knicks beat writer who was assigned in-Garden operatives to closely follow him. “Your papers, please.”
In 2003, Dolan made a smart hire, Seth Abraham, the dignified, amiable and highly effective ex-president of HBO Sports, as head of Garden operations — one in a continuing series.
Within a few months, Abraham was out; Dolan had hired him to obey his orders, not to give suggestions or advice.
Pitiless pettiness under Dolan — $5 “facility fees” on top of the cost of a ticket, the removal of numerous Garden water fountains, replaced by water vending machines — leave small marks of his smallness. He fired a Garden security guard for not knowing who he is. How dare she!
In 2007, the Blues were here to play the Rangers. Beloved ex-Ranger and team TV analyst John Davidson was the Blues’ new president; the Blues’ new management included former Garden execs Dave Checketts, Mike McCarthy and Ken Munoz. The Garden graciously made an arena suite available to Davidson, but with a Dolan catch: None of those other MSG ex-employees was allowed in.
Last year, MSG Network presented a show devoted to the Knicks’ most exciting occurrences this century. Of course, there has only been one: that fabulous stretch when unknown Jeremy Lin led the battered, Carmelo Anthony-less Knicks to fast-paced win after win.
But in deference to Jim Dolan, not even one of those moments — before Dolan allowed Lin and his upbeat style to get out, stay out — made the show.
Oakley vs. Dolan? Although Oakley did what Dolan never has — help the Knicks win some games — I’ll pass. I don’t know whom to root for, only whom to root against.
A strong week of ill-advised idiocy
Geniuses of the Week:
Win: MLB. Its serious consideration of starting extra innings with a runner on second to shorten games? Nothing more exciting than a game ending with a sac bunt and a sac fly!
Among readers who felt they could improve on that was Julian Stein: “How about starting the extra inning with a runner rounding third and the left fielder throwing home?”
Place: ESPN. Thursday, with 1:20 left in regulation and on play with Duke up, 77-75, over North Carolina, it cut the live view in half to show Mike Krzyzewski on the sideline.
And what was Duke’s coach doing? He was watching the game! Imagine that! We, who had tuned in to watch the game, in its decisive moments got to watch him watch the game!
Show: Texas A&M, playing at Florida on ESPN2, forsook its school colors to wear all-black uniforms, thus the names of the players on the backs of their jerseys were not merely unreadable, they were nearly invisible!
Steve Young ’s interview with Bloomberg News during which he reportedly said he doesn’t much care about or follow football — and only sustains his ESPN gig to help promote his investments business — was stunning.
That he doesn’t follow football has long been self-evident, but his chat with Bloomberg may have been the first time a man conducted his exit interview in public. How can ESPN now keep him?