Chapter 27: The Welcome Ceremony (Part I)

September 10, 1996, and Madison Square Garden was buzzing once again. As the Knicks players arrived one by one, the volume of noise inside the practice facility grew steadily.

Thirty-four-year-old Jeff Van Gundy wasn't wearing a suit today; like the other assistant coaches, he was dressed in the team's white practice gear. The young head coach clearly lacked a commanding presence. Nearby, Charles Oakley—hair slightly long, skin dark, and chest hair visible through his jersey—was loudly teasing Patrick Ewing:

"Man, you’ve got to fight back. The New York media is painting you as a cancer. I have to hear that idiotic bullshit every damn day!"

Ewing wore a look of bitter resentment. He had been a target throughout the offseason, and after all these years, he still despised how the New York press belittled and exploited him. "I can't control what those idiots say. But if they keep slandering me this season, I’m going to make them pay."

While the two veterans were deep in their heated rant, Allan Houston, the team’s new addition, couldn't find a way to jump into the conversation. Charlie Ward, a guard who had been with the team for two seasons, was busy playing the sycophant: "Those idiots don't know the game; they're just looking for clicks. Besides, we only lost to the defending champions..."

Before he could finish, Oakley grabbed the rookie by the neck, his voice harsh: "Don't bring up losing! Dammit! I don't want to recall Michael's smug face!"

Caught in a headlock, Ward didn't dare resist. Having realized his bootlicking had backfired, he could only offer a sheepish, forced laugh. The other newcomers—Chris Childs, John Wallace, and Walter McCarty—all stood frozen, not daring to make a sound, their eyes darting nervously toward the coaching staff.

As Ewing and Oakley continued their tirade against the New York media, Li You and John Starks walked onto the court, having finished changing into their practice gear.

"Look who it is! Our champion guard is here. John tells me you were still taking summer classes. You really are a studious kid!" Oakley immediately strode over, bumping fists with Starks before turning his loud, mocking tone toward Li You.

Li You, not expecting his teammate to be such a snitch, glanced at the laughing Starks and retorted drily, "I’m not a millionaire like you guys. I have to save money where I can."

Oakley flashed a mischievous grin, threw an arm around Li You’s shoulder, and shouted to the rookies on the other side: "I’ve got plenty of 'welcome gifts' ready for you rookies today!"

This wasn't Li You's first time interacting with the Knicks. During his two years at UConn, they had visited Madison Square Garden every year. Back then, they were merely nodding acquaintances. Oakley had always been relatively friendly toward Li You, but he clearly wouldn't be as lenient with the other two rookies.

John Wallace and Walter McCarty were too nervous to speak. Patrick Ewing, not wanting to make things too difficult for the newcomers, intervened: "Don't scare them off. Relax, it's just stuff rookies are supposed to do."

"UConn played well this year. Can't believe Georgetown didn't even make the Final Four. The New York media doesn't know a thing about basketball; all they do is hype up that rookie." As Ewing spoke, he couldn't hide his jealousy. Having also attended Georgetown, he saw how the New York media fawned over Allen Iverson. Even before Iverson had played a single NBA game, many in the press had already practically awarded him the Rookie of the Year title. Compared to the gorilla-like Ewing, the bright-eyed, bushy-browed Iverson was much more to the liking of New York fans.

Larry Johnson was the last to arrive. He entered the facility in silence, projecting an aura that suggested, "You’re all here to support me."

With everyone present and no one late, Jeff Van Gundy clapped his hands to get their attention. "This is my first season officially taking over the team. I don't want to keep losing, and I assume you feel the same way." He paused, looking at his star center. "The truth is, the Knicks' championship window is closing. Pat, you know I'm telling the truth."

Having followed Pat Riley for years, Van Gundy didn't bother with empty promises. He knew the New York players all too well, and the feeling was mutual. Ewing fell silent, nodding in acknowledgment of his coach's words.

"We need to improve our offense this season, but we can't sacrifice our defense. We have enough talent to do both." Van Gundy added, "We are a family! I will do everything in my power to help this team, and you all need to be ready!"

The young Van Gundy didn't demand compliance with the harsh, authoritative tone of an old-school coach; he communicated more like he was consulting with them. Don Nelson had failed to change New York’s offense and was shown the door early; even with his years of service to the team, if Van Gundy didn't show results this season, he would be out on the street soon enough.

After a brief meeting, the assistant coaches began physical assessments. Despite a carefree offseason, the players had remained disciplined, and no one showed signs of excessive weight gain.

While the assistants led the team through warm-ups, Tom Thibodeau noticed Larry Johnson standing quietly off to the side. He leaned toward Van Gundy and whispered, "How should we structure the offense? Larry needs the ball; he played as the focal point in Charlotte."

The assistants had been discussing this for days but remained at a loss on how to utilize the new acquisition. Thibodeau expected Van Gundy to have a plan, but he was stunned by the response: "I don't know. Honestly, when Grunfeld made that trade, he didn't even consult me."

Ernie Grunfeld, the current General Manager, clearly didn't hold Van Gundy in high regard—a consequence of the head coach’s lack of authority. If the star player was liked by the fans and management, and the coach couldn't handle him, then the coach would simply be replaced.

Li You noted the situation within the Knicks. He preferred a weak head coach; it gave him more freedom on the floor.

"Alright, guys, let’s get to know each other. Divide up and let’s run some scrimmages!"

Don Chaney, an assistant coach who had been with the Knicks for years and held considerable respect, began organizing the teams. "Larry, you go with the reserves and help the new guys out."

Larry Johnson pulled on a black practice jersey without a word.

"Li, you’re with Larry. Play the one-spot. Let’s see what you’ve got!"

Li You nodded, ignoring Larry Johnson’s posturing, and tapped the nervous Walter McCarty on the shoulder. The Kentucky rookie still seemed to be struggling to adjust to the team's atmosphere.