Sports world needs more guys like Karl
Published March 19, 2002

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E-MAIL  
Mike Bianchi

Thank you, George Karl.

Thank you for being an arrogant egotist.

Thank you for being a pompous jerk.

Thank you for being an overbearing, obnoxious baby.

And thank you most of all for giving the Magic somebody to despise.

If the NBA really wanted to generate more interest, spike the TV ratings and pack the arenas, it would make it mandatory for coaches to read the George Karl Primer on Rankling Feelings and Ruffling Feathers. The ongoing rift between Karl and Magic Coach Doc Rivers, which will be renewed again tonight at TD Waterhouse Centre, is exactly what the NBA so desperately needs.

To paraphrase Patrick Henry: "Give me rivalry or give me death."

Pro sports today have become too lovey-dovey, touchy-feely. When the final buzzer sounds, you know what you see? Players from opposing teams smiling and hugging and yukking it up like they're at a family reunion. It's almost impossible to tell the winners from the losers.

You think Ali and Frazier ever hugged after a fight? Chamberlain and Russell? I'd rather have the no-class sore-loser Pistons storming off the court and refusing to shake hands after losing to Michael Jordan's Bulls during the '91 playoffs than all this gratuitous hugging and handshaking you see today.

What the NBA needs is more rivalry, less revelry. More backbiting, less backslapping. And that's why Orlando-Milwaukee is such a treat. When you think about it, is there a more heated and hateful rivalry remaining in all of pro basketball?

Look around the league: The Celtics-Lakers rivalry is dead. The Knicks-Heat rivalry is dormant. And although L.A. and Sacramento are much better, Orlando and Milwaukee are more bitter.

The reason is because the two coaches are such complete opposites. Karl is contentious; Rivers is congenial. Rivers is a big brother to his players; Karl is a nagging mother to his. Karl is bluntly honest like Steve Spurrier; Rivers is charmingly candid like Bobby Bowden.

And then, of course, there's the biggest difference of all: Rivers wears underwear; Karl doesn't.

The NBA -- and all sports leagues, for that matter -- are starving for more contrasting, conflicting personalities. Doesn't it seem like nobody today says much of anything that's interesting? We need more of the color and candor that Rivers and Karl provide and less of the preheated, programmed pabulum we get almost everywhere else.

Karl, as you might expect, has made this rivalry what it is. I had a chance to talk with him extensively during last year's Magic-Bucks playoff series, and he admitted "jealousy and anger" because he believes Rivers has not paid his dues in the coaching profession.

Karl's coaching odyssey has gone from the CBA to the NBA, back to the CBA to Europe and then back to the NBA again. It greatly annoys him that Terry Stotts, a 12-year assistant coach on his staff, can't get a sniff of a head coaching job while Rivers took the NBA fast track.

"It bothers me that Doc, with all of his style and spin, got a job coming right out of the TV booth," Karl confessed.

Thank you, George Karl.

Thank you for being such an incessant whiner.

Thank you for being such an incredible crybaby.

Thank you for being such an insufferable, insecure brat.

The sports world needs more George Karls.

We love you, George, because we hate you.

Mike Bianchi can be reached at mbianchi@orlandosentinel.com.