Alas, I did not get to ask Anthony Mason my question.
Mason was not taking questions after practice Saturday, just as he does not take instructions during basketball games. Bad habits have a way of cross-pollinating.
Mason eschewed inquiries into his frame of mind, a mind that would require, in any case, only a very small frame.
What I wanted to know is what Mason thinks of Michael Jordan’s loyalty to a mere basketball coach, just to get the opposite view, since Mason has yet to meet a coach he can respect.
It would be like asking a burglar to rate the locks. Something useful might be learned.
Here we have Jordan swearing fidelity to Phil Jackson, with only the occasional caveat.
“Phil is my coach,” Jordan said for the 100th time.
You get the idea that Jordan would donate Jackson a kidney if asked, or a Lamborghini if not.
In the age of Sprewell, Jordan’s position is not only remarkable but unique. Is it also foolish? Can other players understand it? Would Anthony Mason ever yell at Jackson as he has Dave Cowens, as Mason did Pat Riley?
Maybe there is something about Jackson that encourages faithfulness and seldom-qualified support. Could Mason, from his unique point of view, tell me what it might be?
“Ugh,” Mason said, nearly running over a cameraman as he left the practice floor.
Mason was not offering any further explanation of a discussion he had with Cowens near the end of Game 3. The language Mason used to Cowens would require not only soap and a wire brush but a good smack and no supper.
And Cowens’ response was a suggestion for Mason to kiss his lower backside, an encouragement that Mason resisted in spite of the public curiosity to see something like that with time left on the clock in an NBA playoff game..
This is what passes for social chit-chat among the Hornets, not a team as much as a bunch of self-chewing earwigs.
The Bulls, at least, know the enemy does not share the shower with them. The enemy wears suits with table leavings on the lapel.
And no matter how often one Jerry or another tries to kiss and make up, the Bulls’ response is pretty much the same as Cowens’. Kiss this.
If rockets flew on spit, that is what you would use. The Bulls run on spite, so don’t be putting sweetener in the jar.
The dumbest thing Jerry Reinsdorf could do is try to remove from this team the single most unifying force in the run for another title. That would be himself.
Reinsdorf cannot switch sides in the second round. Scottie Pippen is wearing the official slogan, one of those backward caps with the message “Last Dance 98.”
In his way, Reinsdorf is Pippen’s Cowens. He can’t be suggesting another dance when the T-shirts already have been made.
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It does not seem to bother Cowens that his players treat him like rented furniture.
“We go through this all the time,” he said. “We butt heads all the time. He’s a volatile guy and so am I. This is nothing compared to what we are trying to do.”
And what would that be?
“Win another playoff game,” Cowens said. In the NBA, disrespect means nothing next to victory.
So, Cowens was asked, did you ever taunt your coach?
Cowens’ cheerful, open face turned into a closed fist.
“No,” he said, biting off whatever else he had to say into a single sound.
Maybe if Cowens were Jordan’s coach it would be the same, if they had the same history. Cowens does seem to be a reasonable and thoughtful human being.
Maybe Jordan is just comfortable with Jackson. Don’t we all resist change? Maybe Jackson ought to leave Jordan on the bench in the fourth quarter if he really wants to test his loyalty. My guess is that what happened between Mason and Cowens would not happen between Jordan and Jackson.
“Even with my mother, every word isn’t sweet,” Mason had said the night before.
I would love to read his Mother’s Day card.