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Back to school? Riley should consider coaching in the college game
Sports Illustrated senior writer Phil Taylor touches on a Hot Button issue each Monday on CNNSI.com. After you read Phil's take, give us yours. If I'm Pat Riley right about now, I'm steaming. I'm so angry, you'd think someone had forced me to buy a suit off the rack. One of my ex-players, Tim Hardaway, just ripped me the other day, saying that as coach of the Miami Heat, I'm too hard on my team, that I'll never add another title to my four championships because players don't want to play for me anymore. Even though I've taken the high road in response, telling the media that "I love Tim Hardaway -- I wish him nothing but the best and his family nothing but health and happiness," inside I have some very different thoughts. If I'm Riley, I'd like to remind Hardaway that without me he probably never would have resurrected his career, that when he came to play for me five years ago he was nothing but a 30-year-old, overweight point guard with a gimpy knee and a "bad attitude" label stuck to his resume. I traded for him and suddenly he was motivated to drop both the weight and the chip on his shoulder. Before he knew it he was an All-Star again. Who does he think gave him the kick in the tail he needed to get his game back on track, Oprah? But if I'm Riley, Hardaway is just the latest guy to tick me off. I may not have won a championship since 1988, but I look around and see that coaches who have won a lot less than I have are being treated as if they'd cured cancer. Rick Pitino, who went running back to the college game after taking a major ego-whipping in the NBA, coached his first game at Louisville the other night and was greeted with a standing ovation. Bob Knight, whose recent NCAA tournament stays have been so brief he probably doesn't pack a change of clothes anymore, leaves Indiana in disgrace and Texas Tech welcomes him like a war hero. If I'm Pat Riley, I think about all this and come to an obvious conclusion: It's time to go back to school. Universities open their arms and their budgets to welcome coaches like me. They're suckers for big names who have fallen on hard times. Recruiting would be a breeze. Imagine me strolling into a kid's living room. One look at my famous tan and he'd be signing on the dotted line. Once I'd gathered all my studs, it would be much easier to fire up a bunch of 19-year-olds with my motivational speeches than a bunch of 30-year-old millionaires. Even better, by the time the college kids get tired of listening to me -- and they will, just like the Lakers, Knicks and Heat have -- they'll be gone, replaced by a new crop of teenagers. So, if I'm Pat Riley, I'm keeping an eye on UCLA, where Steve Lavin is always one bad loss away from having his job in jeopardy. I'm keeping an eye on Kentucky, my alma mater, where Tubby Smith's name regularly comes up in connection with NBA jobs, and where I could stir up an attention-getting rivalry with Pitino and Louisville. I'm still the best coach in the NBA, but what good does that do when my center has serious health problems and I just don't have the material to go deep into the playoffs? If I'm Pat Riley, I'm getting tired of wringing the most out of a limited roster and then getting blamed for squeezing too hard. I want to be appreciated again. In fact, I want to be treated like a genius again, and that's not going to happen in the NBA. If I'm Pat Riley and I want to be a big man on campus again, I need to find myself a real campus. Sports Illustrated senior writer Phil Taylor writes about a Hot Button issue every Monday on CNNSI.com. The opinions expressed here are solely those of the writer.
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