Is Ewing under-appreciated?
by Jonathan Macri
It’s kind of fitting that Patrick Ewing’s birthday is smack dab in the center of the NBA’s dead zone, right at the mid-point between the end of the Finals and the beginning of training camp. After all, having a born-on date that people actually notice would go against type for the most under-appreciated superstar in New York sports history.
That’s how Tommy Beer referred to Ewing on Monday, when the Big Fella turned 57 years old. It’s had me thinking ever since.
I started to ask myself…is Ewing really under-appreciated? If so, was it by New Yorkers, or just the NBA at large? Either way, why was he?
As I contemplated trying to answer these questions in today’s column as a personal birthday tribute to my favorite Knick ever, I wrestled with whether or not anyone would care. That, in and of itself, speaks volumes. It’s one of the many reasons I agree with Tommy. He is the most underappreciated New York sports superstar, and I’m not sure it’s particularly close. The question of why, however, is more complicated.
Well…it’s not entirely complicated.
Ewing never won, and when you never win, you don’t get thought of like a Mantle or an LT, let alone a Namath or a Messier. In this town especially, it doesn’t matter that Ewing’s career far surpassed that of Broadway Joe, or that the Captain’s very best years occurred elsewhere. They won it all here, and winning smooths over a lot of rough edges. Coming up short only makes those edges more jagged. Coming up short repeatedly, in ways forever seared into our minds and souls, after getting so painfully close…that gets you Ewing and his legacy.
For those who don’t hold Ewing in a special place in their heart, it’s impossible to divorce the emotion of those heartbreaks either from how he was viewed then or how he is thought of now. As New Yorkers, we bill ourselves as having the greatest collective sports IQ of any group of fans. That should mean that we’re able to take emotion out of it when it comes to showing proper appreciation. Tommy’s moniker was a reminder that, in this area at least, we’ve collectively come up well short.
Not everyone, of course. Some, like me, will always worship Pat, and it has nothing to do with his accomplishments or accolades. It’s merely a reflection of the fact that throughout all of my formative years, whenever I turned on a Knick game, I - rightfully - believed that they could win. That was Ewing. I couldn’t care less that he scored almost as many points for the franchise as Reed and Frazier combined; he’s first in my heart because he gave me hope every single night.
Of course Knick fans everywhere understand Ewing’s greatness. They acknowledge that he is, by any metric, the greatest player ever to don the uniform. But revered? Loved?
I grew up listening to my dad talk about the Mick like he was Jesus himself. The Mick won, is an easy retort, as is the fact that things were different between boys and their heroes back then. But even now, I hear Mets fans my age talk about Piazza, and there’s a discernable difference in how they feel about him and the sense I get about how many fans feel about Ewing. My wife, then seven months pregnant, insisted we drive up to Cooperstown to bake in the July heat just so we could see Piazza get inducted into the Hall of Fame. Being there was that important to her.
Piazza never delivered a World Series victory and spent less than half his career in New York, but the adulation was and remains palpable. Ditto for Don Mattingly. Yankees fans are happy to overlook the fact that he’s the only great Yank never to win a ring. Their adoration for him is unparalleled.
That’s simply not the case with Pat. I think some of it has to do with the fact that he never quite opened up to New Yorkers in the way that other professional athletes – Namath comes to mind - felt more comfortable doing. At the same time, his reserved nature didn’t play like Jeter’s – the coolest guy in the room – or Mo’s – who’s understated humility perfectly contrasted with his performance on the mound.
The one glimpse we got behind the curtain was after New York defeated the Pacers to advance to the ’94 Finals and Ewing pulled out that chair, stepped up, spread his arms, and finally shared a mutual embrace with the city he’d kept at arm’s length for a decade. A signed photo of that moment hangs on my wall as a reminder of the happiest night of my life as a sports fan. It was the only glimpse we ever truly got.
While his personality had something to do with the disconnect, I don’t think it plays nearly as big of a role as the narrative that surrounds his career. It’s a narrative that is unique in the annals of NBA history. First overall picks that came into the league with a level of promise comparable to Ewing either delivered on that promise in the form of a ring (Oscar, Elvin, Kareem, Walton, Magic, Hakeem, Robinson, Shaq, Duncan & LeBron) or had a career that for one reason or another clearly fell short of expectations (Sampson, Coleman & Webber).
Among the most anticipated first overall selections, only Elgin, Ewing and Iverson had careers that were a success by any metric and yet never delivered a championship. Baylor is seen as the Godfather of the modern game. Iverson is as loved in Philly as any athlete by any fan base in sports. Ewing is Ewing.
His narrative is different, one known more for the failures than the successes. Ask any Knick fan to recite the biggest wins of the Ewing era and you’ll get the same bunch of answers: the aforementioned Game 7 (and Ewing’s put back dunk) vs Indiana, Houston’s shot, and the four-point play. I’d throw in Ewing’s Game 5 winner vs the Pacers in ’95, an absolutely massive shot in the moment that gets lost in the sands of time. But that’s about it. Two Ewing moments, one when he was on the court but not involved, and one when he was out with an injury.
Now ask about the disappointments – the ones etched into the brains of everyone roughly my age and older. The Charles Smith game wasn’t on Ewing, although he couldn’t prevent Chicago from coming back from down 0-2. The Miami suspensions might have been absurd, but it doesn’t change the fact that they probably win that series if he never gets off the bench. There’s also the finger roll, which needs no recap.
And of course, there was Olajuwon’s domination in ’94. What was billed as a battle between two equal titans turned out to be far more one-sided. More than any other single event in Ewing’s career, for me, that series explains how and why he’s viewed as he is…or rather, isn’t viewed as he should be.
Ewing never had his Olajuwon series or even his version of the four-point play. He was just consistently (and quietly) the best player on a team that did something no New York organization outside the Yankees has ever accomplished:
For nine consecutive years, the New York Knicks made it to at least the second round of the playoffs. Think about that for a second.
People talk about playoff streaks in the NBA as if they mean something. They don’t. Not when more than half the league gets in. Winning once you get there, however, is a different story. Ewing’s Knicks won at least one playoff series for nine straight seasons starting in 1992. As a point of comparison, Pop’s Spurs longest such stretch was eight years. The Lakers also had an eight-year run, starting in 1997. No one else comes close since New York’s streak ended.
Among the local teams, aside from the Yankees, the 90’s Knicks are peerless. Sure, the Giants have won four Super Bowls, but only once in their illustrious history – from 1984 to 1986 - have they won playoff games in consecutive seasons. Ditto for the Jets (in 2009 and 2010) and Mets (in 1999 and 2010). The Rangers top out at seven consecutive years with a playoff series win, and it was during the first seven years of their existence, when there were only ten teams in the league. Even the great Islanders dynasty of the early 80’s couldn’t get past seven straight.
Ewing’s Knicks had nine. Not a single player who was on New York’s roster when that streak started was still there by the time it ended…besides Ewing. With the amount of player movement in the league today, it wouldn’t be surprising if it’s the last time we see a streak of that magnitude for a while, if not ever. Golden State would have to win a playoff series in each of the next four postseasons just to equal it. Good luck with that.
Ewing managed to keep that streak alive for damn near a decade despite his best running mate for the lion’s share of that time, John Starks, playing for the Memphis Rockers of the World Basketball League one year before the streak began. Even so, Ewing never came close to winning the league’s MVP award. Timing is everything, as they say.
So yes…I did ultimately think it worthy to spend a few minutes showing the Big Fella some appreciation. Maybe as time passes, he’ll eventually get his due. In the meantime, here’s to another 57. Happy (belated) Birthday, Mr. Ewing. Thanks for all the memories.
Even the bad ones.
Thanks for reading, talk to you next Thursday!